Romeo and Juliet
by Feyren
Summary: Semi-AU. Akaya and An's meeting certainly wasn't anything like Romeo and Juliet's, but it turned into romance anyway. When four rival schools are merged together, something's got to change, and unfortunately, it won't necessarily be for the better. KiriAn
1. Two Households, Both Alike in Dignity

I do not know why I'm writing this. It's a weird semi-AU thing, where the teams still play tennis, and stuff like that. Except I made Hyotei and RikkaiDai sort of like brother-schools, and same with Fudomine and Seigaku. And the former two hate the latter two, and vice versa. So it's semi-AU. Which is weird.

…Enjoy it anyway?

* * *

Tachibana An toyed with her pencil, idle. She'd never been the type to space out during class, but it wasn't like the class was doing anything, anyway. The teacher had left the classroom to fetch a cart of books, and most of the students were chattering amongst themselves.

"An-chan," a girl called. "Don't you want to talk?"

An simply smiled and shook her head a bit. "That's fine; you guys go on ahead. I'm kind of tired." That wasn't exactly true. The problem was that the only thing her friends really spoke of these days was the exchange with RikkaiDai and Hyotei.

It wasn't so much of an exchange as a merging of sorts. The four schools—that was, Hyotei, RikkaiDai, Seigaku, and of course, Fudomine—were to join for a few months, simply for educational purposes. It would have been exciting. It was supposed to exciting. Except the schools had been feuding for decades. Hyotei and RikkaiDai were snobbish, unlikable in general. An snorted at the thought of them. They felt themselves so _above _everybody else—it was annoying, really. The whole thing started ages ago. She honestly doubted anybody still remembered the cause.

It'd continued for a number of reasons, of course. There was the rumor that Atobe Keigo, the "king" of Hyotei, had broken Tezuka Kunimitsu's arm in a match. There was the fact that Fuji Syusuke, the genius of Seigaku, and Marui Bunta, the genius of RikkaiDai, had an ongoing rivalry. There was the fact that Kirihara Akaya had broken her big brother's leg. There was the fact that Hyotei was a school of rich brats and RikkaiDai was a school of uptight bullies.

So Fudomine and Seigaku hated Hyotei and RikkaiDai—simply because their predecessors hated each other, and maybe simply for the sake of hating.

While An wasn't the biggest fan of Hyotei and RikkaiDai herself, she couldn't say she liked them, either. They certainly didn't seem like the nicest people she'd met, and she wasn't exactly looking forward to meeting them.

The teacher walked back into the room, dragging a cartful of books like she'd said. An peered at the cover.

Romeo and Juliet.

"In honor of the temporary merging of our four schools," the teacher began, and a series of boos and hisses followed, "we're going to read _Romeo and Juliet, _one of my favorite Shakespearean plays."

It was one of An's favorites too. The tale had been beautiful, if not awfully sad. And foolish, too. After all, their feelings couldn't really be called _love. _They'd fallen for the respective other's looks. And to risk their lives for that? It was romantic, it was heartbreaking—but it was also kind of stupid.

_I would never do that, _An decided. _I would never be able to._

* * *

Kirihara Akaya strolled along to Court B, Niou trailing behind him. "You hear about the school merging thing?" Niou drawled, fishing through his tennis bag.

_Not this again. _The RikkaiDai students had been talking about the weird merging situation since last week.

Not that Akaya wasn't looking forward to crushing some Fudomine and Seigaku punks.

So he nodded. "The thing with Seigaku?"

"Yeah. Heard Hyotei's in it too."

Akaya snorted. "Atobe'll love that." His eyes glinted. "I heard Yukimura-buchou's looking forward to it."

Niou bared his teeth in a smile. He unpacked his racquet and began bouncing the ball. "Of course he is. He's wanted a match with Tezuka ever since Sanada lost to him." He served.

Akaya hit it back. "I could cream that guy in fifteen minutes," he replied, grunting slightly. "I still can't believe fukubuchou lost to him. He doesn't look so tough; I bet fukubuchou could beat him real easy now."

They rallied lightly for a few moments in silence. "You know, this whole exchange kind of reminds me of that English play. _Romeo and Juliet, _was it? We read it last year. You know, with the whole rivalry and stuff. Minus the romance. I heard we're even going to have a ball to commemorate this 'joyous merging of our schools,'" Niou said, mimicking the principal's nasally voice.

The younger boy merely quirked an eyebrow at the accent. "We read it this year." Slice. Drop volley. Niou returned it with a lob. Akaya slammed it. "It's a stupid story."

If anything, Niou seemed amused. (Personally, Akaya had been hoping Niou would be a bit more upset over the fact that he'd missed a smash.) "Why?"

"Think about it," Akaya insisted. "It's about two people who barely glance at each other, and immediately fall in love. First of all, ew." He made a face. "Second, it's stupid."

"You said that. Why is it stupid?" Niou pressed.

"Because they fell in love before they got to know each other," Akaya huffed, slinging his racquet over his shoulder. "They were willing to die for something so shallow. As it is, they just fell in love with looks. And that's not love."

Niou grinned, hopped over the net and flung an arm around the junior ace. "Who knew our Akaya was such a romantic?" he all but shouted, and the members of the tennis team—Yukimura and Sanada included—turned around to stare at them.

"Niou-senpai, you're heavy," Akaya complained, and shoved him off.

"No fooling around during practice," Yukimura said mildly, and turned back to his conversation with Sanada.

Akaya scowled and gave Niou a hard punch on the arm. "Liar. I'm not a romantic."

"Then you wouldn't be debating on _love,_" Niou pointed out, dragging out the word "love" with a goofy accent.

"But it's true! I'd never let something like that happen to me," Akaya decided. "I'd never be able to."

* * *

Oh God, how bad was it? Let me know if I should continue this... I couldn't help it. Really. I just kind of wanted to put it out there, because it's been pestering me since... three hours ago. And I hate pesky things.


	2. Let Them Take It As They List

For the purpose of this story, let's just assume that the students get to pick their own roommates, and that age/grade doesn't matter.

* * *

Mukahi Gakuto and Marui Bunta walked out of a sweets shop, each holding ice cream cones. "Tokyo's not so bad," Marui decided, giving his double scoop chocolate mint a fond glance. "I thought it'd get worse after four years."

"Told you," Gakuto replied smugly. "At least, this part of Tokyo's pretty good. They have the best restaurants around here. Yuushi and I are planning on going to that new Italian restaurant as soon as it opens."

Marui nodded. "Oshitari with the fake glasses, right? He's cool. It's been a long time since I've been to Hyotei." He grinned. "We all went to the same elementary school, didn't we?"

_It's really been a long time since we've both been able to hang out together, just for fun,_ Marui realized. Although the schools were brother schools, they really weren't given enough time to travel from one city to the other, simply for the sake of having fun. Both of their schools were extremely competitive, top-notch high schools, after all. Perhaps if they had gone to the same high school, they'd have had more opportunities to simply hang out.

Not that they didn't keep in touch. Hyotei and RikkaiDai were close, after all. Most of the students there had gone to the same elementary institute—before they were divided up for junior high school. And because the junior high schools and the high schools were linked, it'd been fairly difficult for Marui to meet up with Gakuto.

It'd also been hard for Marui to frequent Tokyo's sweet shops.

"And now we're in high school," Gakuto said dryly. "If not for the Seigaku and Fudomine geeks, Tokyo would be the best city in Japan. As it is, though, I'd choose Kanagawa over Tokyo any day." He paused. "Not for a long time, though. Maybe a week at a time or something, because I don't think Kanagawa has natto."

"It does too!" And with that, a very mature argument broke out ("Does not!" "Does too!" "Does not!" "Does too!").

Then Gakuto hesitated. "Wait a sec. Is that a Seigaku student?"

Marui squinted, then smirked. "Yeah, you can tell by their weird uniforms. No suits or ties."

"Crude," Gakuto agreed. "I think there's a Fudomine student with him."

Sure enough, there stood Momoshiro Takeshi and Kamio Akira, about to head into the sweets shop that Gakuto and Marui had just walked out of.

"Why are the two of them together?" Gakuto asked. "Don't they have some sort of rivalry over a girl?"

They shared a look, then snickered. It was so like Seigaku and Fudomine to have a fight over something like that. Dimwitted, power reliant, not too smart…

"I heard they had a fight over a bike, too," Marui put in, and they burst into another fit of laughter. "I still can't believe we lost to Seigaku before."

"Even if it was a one time thing," the acrobat agreed. He tossed his hair slightly and Marui had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Even after four years, he retained his arrogance. _Must be a Hyotei thing, _he decided.

"Remember how we used to call them the Tokyo 'Tards?"

"Stop," Gakuto whined, bending over and laughing. "You're making my stomach hurt."

Momoshiro and Kamio passed them, apparently done with their shopping. Kamio, however, subtly inserted his thumb between his middle and index finger as he walked by them, and released it once he passed.

Gakuto's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Marui. "Go ahead," the latter replied, sticking his hands in his pockets and getting ready to watch the show.

Satisfied, Gakuto approached Kamio and grabbed his shoulder. "Excuse me, sir," he said in a sickeningly sweet voice. "Did you just do what I think you did?"

"Gee, I don't know," Kamio spat back. "Why don't you ask your little gum-chewing servant?" He gave a contemptuous glance at Marui, who walked toward them as well.

He blew a bubble and watched it pop in Kamio's face. "What'd you say?"

Taking a threatening step forward, he said, "You heard me."

Marui laughed. "Bad boy," he taunted. "Don't use brute strength, use your words. Although, that's kind of hard to do when brute strength's all you've got going for you." He easily dodged the punch coming his way, and leaned down to trip Kamio with a swing of his leg. "Ah, too slow. Guess you don't even have _that _going for you, eh?"

"If you think you can beat me in a race—"

"We don't do races," Gakuto interrupted casually. He tossed his ice cream cone onto Momoshiro's shirt and grinned at the giant pink splotch it made. "We do fights. Come on, don't just stand there and watch. Have some fun." The redhead grinned.

"I could kill you with my bare hands," the second-year said flatly.

"Try," he offered, and the moment Momoshiro took a step forward, Gakuto jumped ten feet into the air, did a backflip, and landed behind him.

"Show-off," Marui sighed. "You haven't changed a bit, Gakuto."

"Damn straight," was the proud reply.

Another boy ran toward them, this one older and carrying several shopping bags. "Momo, Kamio! What are you two doing?" he demanded, setting the bags aside.

"Oishi-senpai!" Momoshiro exclaimed. "These two were—"

"Another one?" Marui asked, grimacing. "Gakuto, they're taking up all the oxygen."

Kamio whirled around. "Who's taking up all the oxygen, you whiny little—"

"You're calling _me _little?" Marui demanded. "I'm older than you. And once our schools merge, you're going to have to call me 'senpai.'"

"You're going to have to call _both _of us 'senpai,'" Gakuto added, and grinned. "We'll be good, lovable senpais and tell you where you need to go, too. Let's see, the girl's locker room is on the first floor, the girl's bathrooms are all on the third, the girl's tennis team meets on Fridays…"

"Are you calling me a girl?"

"No way!" Marui covered his mouth with a hand in an exaggerated gesture. "Really? I had _no _idea."

"Stop!" Oishi ordered. "Momoshiro, Kamio, leave. Now. Ryuuzaki-sensei will be hearing about this if you don't."

"But they started the whole thing!

"And you're just as responsible for taking the bait," he said firmly. "Now go."

Sullenly, the two marched off, and Oishi turned to Marui and Gakuto. Gakuto was the one who broke the silence. "You have funny looking hair."

Ignoring the jab, Oishi said, "The school ball is tonight. You'll both be kept from attending if you continue the fight. I suggest you leave as well."

"You have no right to tell us what to do," Gakuto began, but Marui tugged on his arm.

"Let's just go," Marui said urgently. To Oishi, he went so far as to give a little bow. "Goodbye, Oishi-kun. We're sorry about our behavior." Gakuto gave his friend an incredulous look, but Oishi seemed relieved.

"Apology accepted," he assured. "I wish we could have met under better terms, and I apologize for my kouhais' behavior. See you tonight."

Marui gave a friendly little wave, and as soon as Oishi was out of sight, Gakuto smacked Marui on the arm. "What the hell was that?" he demanded.

Marui began to laugh. "Don't think so lowly of me; it's all good," he replied. "I left my ice cream cone in his shopping bag."

Gakuto smirked. "That's more like it. Don't you ever scare me like that again." He turned away. "This rivalry has lasted for decades, and it's not going to stop because of a stupid temporary merge."

* * *

Ryuzaki Sumire sipped her tea. "I'm sure you also heard about the incident regarding Kamio and Momo?"

"Marui and Mukahi as well," Sakaki acknowledged wearily. "Those two were troublemakers to begin with. I apologize for the incident today, Ryuzaki-san."

"It was just as much my students' faults as yours," she said dismissively. "There's no need to apologize. But I'm starting to doubt the Director's decision to merge the schools. The feud was out of control to begin with. I don't see how merging the students will do anything."

"It will only make it worse," Sakaki agreed. "It's only temporary, however. Six months, I believe?"

"Six months is enough time for students to commit mass murder," Ryuzaki said grimly.

Sakaki gave a refined laugh. "Certainly not. But there will definitely be injuries and the such. At least one fight. I don't understand why the students despise each other so fervently. It's mostly the tennis club, too," he admitted, "and that's why I asked you to meet with me. Surely you agree that most of our schools' population admire—and to some degree, worship—our respective tennis clubs?"

"Of course."

"And it's because my regulars loathe your regulars so much, and vice versa, that the rest of the school follows. It must have become a force of habit at this point; it's practically tradition, and everybody has forgotten why they despise the others so."

Ryuzaki nodded. "I see where you're going with this, but there's not much we can do. The masquerade is in a few hours; the best we can do is hope that a few rival team members will accidentally make friends, or something of the sort. This feud is absolutely ridiculous. Do you even know how it started?"

"I've no idea," he confessed. "I was a music teacher for the majority of my time at Hyotei, and though RikkaiDai and Hyotei are brother schools, I've yet to step foot in RikkaiDai University. The schools do meet every month, and the activities are entwined, but very few of it actually has to do with the music department."

"Seigaku and Fudomine aren't the type to gossip, and I doubt the teachers know anything. In any case, we should get to the ballroom. The students are probably trying to claw each others' eyes out." Ryuzaki gave a resigned sigh and left the room, Sakaki close behind.

* * *

An pulled a red dress over her tank top. It barely fell past her knees, but it was simple—no fancy ribbons, no crazy straps, no quadruple layers. It was nothing but an ordinary satin dress with one chiffon sash, and that was how An liked it.

"Are you done yet, An-senpai?"

"Almost," she called back to Sakuno, who was currently waiting out in the living room with Tomoka. Despite the age difference, she was fond of them—they had personality, something that a lot of Fudomine girls lacked. "I just have to find the mask, and I'll be set."

To be honest, she wasn't really looking forward to the masquerade ball. It sounded fun, mysterious. And An was always up for an adventure, but something about mingling with RikkaiDai and Hyotei students—without even knowing who was who—seemed risky, almost.

As if she'd read An's mind, Tomoka began ranting, "This whole exchange is silly. Who do the teachers think they're kidding? Just because they're shoving all of us into one building doesn't mean we're suddenly going to be best friends. If it weren't for the fact that Ryoma-sama is attending this dance, I wouldn't even be going."

"Oh?" An murmured, digging through her closet. She'd only moved into the dorms yesterday evening, and had resorted to dumping the contents of her suitcases in her closet without sorting through them. _Wasn't a very good idea, _she decided, and helplessly searched for a hint of red.

"I'm sure the RikkaiDai and Hyotei students aren't that bad," Sakuno protested. "Isn't Ryoma-kun friends with some of them?"

_Always the nice one, _An thought fondly.

"They wish!" Tomoka gave a haughty laugh. "Ryoma-sama crushed all of them, of _course _they'd want to be friends with him. But our prince is Seigaku, and that's all there is to it."

"I suppose…" Sakuno agreed halfheartedly.

"Found it!" An exclaimed, and held up a dark red mask, forgetting momentarily that Sakuno and Tomoka couldn't see her. She put it in her bag and walked out. "How do I look?"

"You look beautiful, An-senpai!" Tomoka told her. "No clips today?"

"They'd give me away," she admitted. After all, she'd been wearing the clips since seventh grade, and they'd become a sort of trademark for her. If she wanted to maintain some degree of mystery, she'd have to do more than cover the top half of her face. "Do you two still want help with your hair?"

"If you don't mind," Sakuno said shyly.

She shook her head. "Of course not," and with that, began to unbraid Sakuno's hair. "Are you looking to impress Echizen-kun?" she asked gently.

The bright red blush that bloomed on her face gave An her answer, and she smiled. _I wish I felt that way about somebody, _she thought vaguely.

* * *

"And then Gakuto dumped his ice cream on the Momoshiro guy's shirt," Marui said, laughing. "You should've seen his face. And Gakuto was acting all cool about it. I think his exact words were, "We don't do races; we do fights." And then Momoshiro threatened to kill him or something, but Gakuto got all show-offy and did a backflip…" He switched the channel. "These new dorms are sweet."

"Yeah," Akaya agreed. "Didn't you say that Seigaku was the first to back off?" He tried his lion mask on. It was detailed and silver, and a perfect fit. Yukimura-buchou had been the one to buy the masks for everyone, and personally, Akaya liked his best. Niou and Yagyuu had both been given bird masks, Jackal and Sanada had been given phantom masks, Marui received a jester mask, Renji a simple black one, and of course, Yukimura'd chosen an extravagant one for himself.

Yes, the lion mask had been the best of them all.

Marui snorted. "Yeah, some eleventh grader barged in and threatened to kick the two kids out of the dance. I bet he was afraid we were going to beat them up or something. Like we have to." He rolled his eyes and switched the channel again. "We were going to make them cry, anyway. Dude, do you _know _how many channels this thing has?"

"Seigaku and Fudomine were pathetic to begin with," Akaya said, trying on his suit. "I still can't believe we're actually going to share a school with them."

"It's a great opportunity for pranks," Marui replied with a shrug. "I know Niou's looking forward to it."

"Niou-senpai? Is Yagyuu-senpai joining, too? He's gotta know better than that—fukubuchou would have his head. He wants us to 'prove that we're the more mature and disciplined of the two,'" Akaya quoted. "Damn it, how do you tie this stupid thing?"

Marui tore his eyes away from the flat-screen television long enough to glance at the tangled mess that was once a tie. "Fifteen years old, and you can't tie a tie," he mused.

Akaya scowled. "Shut up, Marui-senpai."

The door opened and Sanada walked in, completely dressed and cap-less. "Are you two ready yet?"

Marui yelped. "Sanada! Knock next time, please."

Sanada gave him a withering look. "Then lock the door next time. Akaya, _what _is that monstrosity around your neck?"

"What's the big deal?" Akaya demanded. "Why are we dressing up for this thing anyway? It's dressing up to impress the enemy. They're not worth my time, anyway."

"I won't have you misrepresenting RikkaiDai," Sanada replied sternly, and began to fix Akaya's tie. "Look mature and act mature, because you're a RikkaiDai student, as well as a tennis team regular. Don't make a fool of yourself."

"Please," Marui snorted, "he'll make a fool of himself the moment he starts dancing."

"Shut _up, _Marui-senpai."

"Well, do you know how to waltz?"

"Do _you?_"

Sanada stepped back and looked at Akaya. He was dressed alright, though his hair was still a mess and he'd chosen to keep his wristband on. _At least the tie's on straight, _he thought jadedly. "You're ready. Let's go; Yukimura and the rest are waiting for us outside the ballroom."

* * *

"How beautiful," An breathed, entering the ballroom. She'd known that the masquerade ball would be a formal one, but she'd never imagined just how formal.

The room was filled with students, dressed impeccably in the most elegant suits and gowns. Masks covered their faces, and they might as well have all been strangers. The atmosphere was tense, and understandably so. No one wanted to mingle with anybody else—there was a fifty-fifty chance that the person they approached would be from a rival school, and no one wanted to risk it. _How are we to tell who's who? _she wondered, and grimaced at the possibility of befriending a Hyotei student. It hardly seemed like a party at all.

She had to admit, however, that the Atobe family must have put a great deal of effort into decorating the place. Or at least, a great deal of money. It looked nothing like a modern-day dance floor, and everything like an Elizabethan ballroom. There were fire lit torches decorating the walls, refreshments placed on satin covered tables, and an actual violin quartet playing classical music in a corner of the room. It was perfect for slow-dancing, but nobody seemed willing.

A young man in a golden mask was talking to a shorter man in a light blue mask, and An immediately recognized the former as her brother. "Onii-chan!" she called, and walked over to them. "Who's this?"

"An-chan," Kippei greeted fondly. "You don't recognize Fuji-kun?"

An whipped around. Sure enough, there stood Fuji, blue eyes and all, with an entertained little smile on his face. He looked nothing like the boyish athlete she usually saw, and everything like royalty. She couldn't help but make a vague connection to a fairytale prince. "I'm sorry, Fuji-senpai. You look so different in a suit," she admitted sheepishly.

He laughed lightly. "I suppose I do. You look quite different yourself. How are you enjoying the party?"

"It's been rather boring," An answered honestly. "I don't know who's who, and my friends haven't arrived yet."

"There's going to be a performance later on," Fuji informed her. "Maybe that will be more entertaining." To Kippei, he said, "I'll be right back; I need to have a word with Tezuka."

Kippei nodded, and once Fuji walked off, turned to An. "I want you to be careful," he said in a low voice, and An stared back incredulously.

"At a party?"

"There are Hyotei and RikkaiDai students here," he warned. "They're not people for us to be afraid of, but I don't want you picking any fights or getting into trouble. Leave that to the other students, but I don't want you to get hurt."

"I wouldn't," she replied indignantly.

Kippei gave her a hard stare. "Avoid the people you don't know, at least for now, and be amiable. We'll deal with the full effects of the exchange when school starts tomorrow, okay?"

An mumbled her agreement and gave a frown once her brother walked off to join Fuji and Tezuka. She knew he was trying to look after her, but there was really no reason to. He'd never been so protective when they went to Fudomine—why did that have to change now? Because two stuck up schools were joining?

"An-chan!" a friend called. "Come here!"

Her eyes lit up. Finally, someone she knew. "Be right there," she called back, and hurried to get some punch before joining them. The area around the refreshments table was practically empty, which was surprising—in Fudomine, almost all the students were clustered there. Were things really so tense that nobody felt like socializing?

The punch had been poured into individual flutes, and An found herself missing the paper cups they used to have before the exchange. She fumbled for a glass while looking for people she knew, but upon trying to pull the glass off the shelf, she found that it wouldn't budge.

"Hey, that's my glass."

An looked up to see a boy in a silver lion mask, gripping the same flute she was. She was about to give a sharp retort, but her brother's words came to mind and she bit them back. "I'm sorry," she said stiffly. "I'll get another one." She reached for the flute next to it and was about to leave, but Lion Mask Boy's laughter stopped her in her tracks.

"You must be from Seigaku," Lion Mask Boy said snidely. "Always the first to back down from a fight."

Not bothering to correct him, she snapped back, "Then you must be from Hyotei, the first to start one." He stared at her intently before replying, and An couldn't help but notice how green his eyes were.

"Nah," was the casual reply. "If I remember correctly, it was your Momoshiro and Kamio who picked a fight with my senpais."

_Then he's my age, _An realized. "Your senpais probably provoked them." She gave him the best glare she could, considering she was wearing a mask and her arm was seriously getting sore from holding it up.

Surprisingly, Lion Mask Boy didn't attempt to make a clever comeback. Instead, he shrugged. "That does seem like something they'd do," he said with a grin. "'Course, it's not like it's unjustified and stuff."

"What do you mean by that?" An demanded. "You just called yourself arrogant."

He shrugged again. "Nah. You can't be arrogant if you got the skills to back it up. Which I do."

An rolled her eyes, though he probably didn't see. "I doubt that."

Lion Mask Boy frowned then. "Do you know who I am?"

"As a matter of fact, I don't. You're wearing a mask. But knowing you Hyotei students, that probably never occurred to you, did it?"

His frown deepened. "You argue too much for a girl."

"You whine too much for a boy."

"I do not!" He actually seemed offended by this, and his voice rose at least an octave in pitch. An resisted the urge to laugh.

"You're doing it now," she pointed out, then caught herself smiling and recoiled. What happened to avoiding the enemy? "I'm leaving," she stated, before he could say anything else.

"Hope I don't see you around sometime!" Lion Mask Boy called after her.

"That's such a unique riposte," she said sarcastically, and quickly engulfed herself in a crowd of students.

_I can't even talk for two minutes without getting into an argument, _she realized in dismay as she made her way to her friends. Then she erased the thought from her mind.

_He started it, _she told herself firmly, and tried not to think about how immature that statement was.

It was only when she started chatting with her friends that she realized she'd completely forgotten about the drink.

* * *

First official chapter! Again, I'm not really sure if I should continue writing this. Oh, and if anyone would like to recommend a beta, please do so! I could really use one.


	3. Remember Thy Swashing Blow

I realize Yukimura might be a bit overly cruel in this one, but you have to remember that they all kind of hate each other here. Yukimura would hate to do anything cruel or unkind to people in his school, or strangers—but the Seigaku and Fudomine students are people he despises, and so he'll have no qualms about breaking hearts.

* * *

Kirihara watched idly as the slow dances commenced. Nobody really knew who he or she was dancing with, but he supposed that was the 'fun' of it all—there were no consequences, no need for rivalry. _Or you could purposely dance with an enemy to get blackmail material, _he mused. The orchestra was playing some symphony. He checked the brochure he'd been given upon entering—Boccherini symphony in D, Opera 12. What the hell was that?

_I could _hum _better than that, _he decided at last, and folded his arms, frowning.

The ball was boring. The whole idea was stupid. What did the students want to accomplish by talking to strangers? They'd all go back to hating one another the moment Monday morning came around.

In the meantime, however, his friends seemed to be enjoying the night. Marui was talking to two boys, one with wavy blue hair, and one with cropped red hair. Yagyuu and Jackal were speaking to Ohtori and a brunette that Akaya didn't recognize. Yanagi, he realized, was talking to a tall man with spiky black hair, and Akaya assumed it was Inui from Seigaku. He shrugged it off; Inui-san and Yanagi-senpai were childhood friends, and that made it okay. Kind of. He'd just rant about it to Yanagi-senpai later.

Yukimura and Sanada were speaking lowly to Atobe, probably about tennis. _Smart idea, _Akaya noted absentmindedly. _At least they're sticking to Hyotei. _

"Hey," someone in a crazy bird mask greeted. The casual slouch, the silver hair, and the icy blue eyes told him it was Niou-senpai. He looked odd without his rattail; given, his hair was actually combed for once. But with his hair down, he reminded Akaya of one of those eighteenth century guys, with the weird rollers in their hair. Without the rollers. Akaya shuddered at the mental image. "How's the dance going?"

If Niou-senpai wasn't taking off his mask, neither was he. "It's boring," he replied. "The music is stupid. There are flutes and clarinets and stuff and that's for girls. And what's up with the giant violins?"

"Those are cellos," Niou replied, looking amused. "Oshitari plays one. And have you forgotten that Yukimura plays the flute? Hyotei's Shishido and Ohtori both play the clarinet."

"The flute's cool, then. But Hyotei's full of overachievers."

"They are," he acknowledged, "but RikkaiDai's got a few, too." There was a brief pause. "Don't you want to dance?" He sounded genuinely curious.

"Why, Niou-senpai! Are you asking me to dance?" Akaya faked shock and delight, and put a hand to his chest in surprise.

Niou snorted. "In your dreams, brat. It's a dance. You should go dance with some chick and try not to step on her foot."

Akaya rolled his eyes. "Why don't _you _dance, Niou-senpai? And anyway, I don't feel like dancing. I've had enough contact with girls for one night." He grimaced involuntarily at the thought of that Seigaku girl in the red dress, and quickly glanced around the room, to see if he could spot her.

Niou noted this with some mirth. "Love-struck already, are we? At first sight, too! What happened to your fancy speech about superficiality during practice the other day?"

"I'm not love-struck," he said moodily. "It's not first sight either. And your mask looks funny. So there."

Niou gave a lazy grin. "You know you're just jealous. Of the mask, I mean. And don't worry, I won't tell anybody." His sharp eyes surveyed the room in one swift motion, seeking out the girl Akaya had been looking for. "Ah, that one, in the red dress?"

Had Akaya's manly pride not been on the line, he might have been amazed by Niou's intelligence and observatory skills, but as it was, he was just annoyed. "I don't like her! I mean, that's not her! I mean . . ." He trailed off. "Your mask looks funny," he repeated lamely.

Niou laughed. "We need to set you two up someday."

"She's from _Seigaku," _Akaya argued."And she was rude and snappy and snippy and all that. And she argues. And . . . and she's annoying."

Niou stared Red Dress Girl down for a few more seconds before turning back to Akaya. "If she weren't from Seigaku, I'd approve. In any case, she sounds a lot like you."

"I'm not annoying! And I'm not snappy or snippy and I don't argue a lot."

"You're arguing now," Niou pointed out, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're definitely snappy and snippy, and anyone could testify that you're annoying." He tousled the sophomore's hair. "Don't worry, we don't mind that much." With that, he left, hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped, like he was the most harmless person in the world.

Akaya smiled an archaic smile. That pose always meant a huge prank was coming up, and personally, he couldn't wait.

* * *

Someone in an expensive looking suit, with short, messy brown hair was saying, "This is lame."

His companion, a taller boy with silver hair, was laughing. "It's a movie moment," he replied brightly. "Atobe-san must have put a lot of effort into creating such a convincing effect."

Akaya rolled his eyes. Convincing effect, indeed! What was the party supposed to resemble, the 1600s? At the moment, there was a 'bard' in the center of the ballroom, singing something all sappy and sentimental.

_What is a youth? Impetuous fire…_

_What is a maid? Ice and desire…_

He snorted. The bard was dressed in the most ridiculous clothes he'd ever seen—puffy shorts, with buckled shoes and a weird leotard resembling-top. He looked like he was on his way to ballet rehearsal, but knowing Atobe, it was probably supposed to resemble something "classy" and "tasteful."

His teammates looked ever-so-enthralled by it, however. Yukimura had his eyes closed and was listening carefully, whereas Sanada seemed to be observing the crowd for signs of mischief. Typical. Marui and Jackal were both listening calmly, as were Yagyuu and Yanagi, but Niou was nowhere to be found.

_The world wags on; a rose will bloom. It then will fade; so does the youth, so does the fairest maid._

However, now that he took a closer look, the bard had on a bird mask, and very prominent silver hair.

What the hell was he doing?

Although, he had to admit, Niou had a good singing voice—it was low and rich, and none of the students—not even Sanada, it seemed, though maybe Yukimura was in on the whole thing—suspected him. For a moment, Akaya wondered if his senpai had kidnapped the real bard and stuffed him in a closet. It _was _something Niou was likely to do . . . though why would he want to replace the bard in the first place?

_There comes a time when one's sweet smile hasn't seasoned for a while…_

_Then love's in love with me. _

_Some may think only to marry; others will tease and tarry. Mine is the very best parry; Cupid, he rules us all._

_Caper the cape but sing me the song; death will come soon to hush us along._

_Sweeter than honey and bitter as gall; Cupid, he rules us all._

Niou-senpai had no reason to sing other than to . . . well, he had no reason at all. The song ended moments later, and Niou, still under the guise of a bard, raised his 'harp' and proclaimed to the eager crowd, "If they have no bread, then they shall have cake!"

The students cheered, and Akaya, mildly amused, watched as Niou led the crowd to the main table. "Since Seigaku and Fudomine are blessing Hyotei and RikkaiDai with their presence—" And it appeared that only Akaya noted the sarcasm in those words, for the Seigaku and Fudomine students shifted proudly— "they shall cut the cake for us! Will the captain of Seigaku or Fudomine please step up? Hyotei and RikkaiDai, please step back."

Hyotei and RikkaiDai did so grudgingly, not wanting to make a fuss at a formal event, but Seigaku and Fudomine quickly took their places, surrounding the table, and preventing Hyotei and RikkaiDai from getting even three yards near the cake.

Tezuka of Seigaku stepped up, and began to cut the cake. Niou hopped back to stand with the rest of RikkaiDai, grinning. He removed his mask and winked at Sanada, whispering something to him, who, upon recognizing him, gave an exasperated groan and massaged his temples.

Tezuka pressed the knife down ever so slightly.

The cake exploded.

Akaya doubled over in laughter. The Seigaku and Fudomine students were covered with a strange mix of cake batter and oil, while RikkaiDai and Hyotei were safely away from it all.

Niou, he noticed, quickly put his mask back on and rushed away from the scene. It'd save him from trouble with the teachers, Akaya realized, and was once again immeasurably proud of his senpai.

The Seigaku regulars were rushing up to their captain, offering napkins and casting dirty looks at the rival schools, while Fudomine seemed properly horrified, and equally offended.

"Where's that bard?" Tachibana Kippei demanded.

Within seconds, Niou was back, successfully blending with the crowd. _How did he change out of the costume so quickly? _Akaya wondered. In any case, Niou was safe.

Sanada, he realized, was still wearing a pained expression. Akaya walked over to him. "What's wrong?"

Yukimura, who was standing next to him, laughed. "Marui and Niou are having a contest," he explained. "Whoever can embarrass Seigaku or Fudomine more, wins. I'm thinking of participating myself." His eyes glinted, and it was moments like those that made Akaya remember his captain wasn't the weak little flower he made himself out to be.

"Can I?" Akaya asked eagerly. Sanada muffled another groan and walked off.

Yukimura watched the assistant captain with some amusement, then turned back to Akaya. "Participate, you mean? Of course. We're trying to convince the Hyotei members to do the same. So far, however, Niou really takes the cake." He put a dainty hand over his mouth and chuckled. "Pun not intended. In fact, I should probably start on my own prank."

"It's unlike you, buchou," Akaya commented.

Yukimura smiled in acknowledgement, and for a moment, Akaya wondered how someone who looked so delicate could act so, well, not delicate. "I know," he replied softly, "but think of everything they'd done to RikkaiDai in the past few years. Our rivalry is more than justified."

Akaya waved it off. "I know _that_. I just meant it wasn't like you to pull pranks."

"Just for tonight; I may as well take advantage of the fact that my identity's hidden. Really, Akaya; one can't be friends with someone like Niou and not pick something up after three or so years." He fondly mussed Akaya's hair. "Have fun tonight, okay?" With that he left.

Akaya watched for a moment as he began conversing with a group of girls. One tilt of the head and one sweet smile, and the girls were charmed.

Marui walked over to him, glanced at the captain, and grinned. "He's going to get at least ten of the Seigaku girls to go on a date with them, and then stand them up," he explained. "I think he's still upset about that time Echizen beat Sanada, and sent him into a depression for two weeks."

"What're you going to do? For the prank, I mean."

Marui shrugged. "I haven't really decided yet. I wanted to put sleeping pills in the glasses, but that could affect RikkaiDai and Hyotei, too. Niou's was the best, though. Yukimura isn't half bad, either."

"He's Yukimura-buchou," Akaya replied. "Of course it wasn't half-bad."

"True," Marui conceded. "So anyway, I was thinking I could—" He stopped, his eyes widening and his lips curving into what was truly a malicious grin. Akaya followed his senpai's gaze, and realized he was staring at a huge cluster of Fudomine students. "I've got it," he said, snapping his fingers. "Cover for me, okay? I'll be right back."

Akaya frowned, then shrugged. Marui-senpai was always going on crazy expeditions like that, and he almost never got caught anyway, so there was really no point in covering; he could probably say outright that Marui-senpai did it, and he still wouldn't get into trouble.

Same went for Niou and Yukimura. Akaya,however . . . He frowned. _Maybe it's a senpai's privilege, _he decided, and went off in search of his own victim.

This was a successful night, indeed.

* * *

An was decidedly bored.

Her friends from Seigaku had all gone off to talk to some boy with wavy blue hair and a fancy mask. The boy was admittedly charming, with his soft, lilting voice and his delicate smile, but An didn't feel like spending the night talking to some mysterious stranger in a mask.

It was a romantic prospect, but . . .

But she wanted to avoid mysterious, handsome masked guys for the rest of the evening.

Not that Lion Mask Boy was handsome. He was . . . mysterious. Yeah.

"An-chan," a classmate, Kaya, scolded lightly. "You're so out of it. Mi-chan and Rika-chan are back, so let's go chat with them, 'kay?"

"'Kay," she said absentmindedly. "Are they done flirting with that blue haired guy?"

Kaya laughed. "I guess so."

"He was cute," Mi protested, walking up to them. "I got a date with him."

"So did about twenty other girls," Rika said moodily. "He said he thought we were all so charming, and that he wanted to take the opportunity to get to know all of us." The frown dropped from her face and she smiled dreamily. "I can't wait," she breathed.

An rolled her eyes. "You two are such saps. What if he's from Hyotei or something?"

"No way," Mi replied, shaking her head. "A Hyotei guy would never come and talk to Fudomine and Seigaku girls. It was obvious we're from Seigaku; we were hanging out with the Seigaku regulars earlier."

"Speaking of the Seigaku regulars," Rika added, frowning again, "do you know if Tezuka-senpai is alright? I mean, the cake basically hit all of us . . ." She cast a rueful glance at her dirtied dress— "but Tezuka-senpai was, like, completely covered in cake batter."

Kaya huffed. "Who made the cake explode, anyway?" The three of them turned to An, waiting for her to say something, but she still looked dazed. "An-chan. _An-chan. _Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," An replied hastily. "And I don't know who made the explosive cake." Her eyes narrowed. "It was obviously someone from Hyotei or RikkaiDai. Remember that bard? He was the one who told RikkaiDai and Hyotei to move back, and tricked Seigaku and Fudomine into walking near the cake. _And _he told either onii-chan or Tezuka-senpai to cut the cake, so he definitely knew the tennis regulars."

"Who _doesn't _know the tennis regulars?" Mi pointed out.

"But anyway, the bard disappeared just as Tezuka-senpai walked up to cut the cake, so he couldn't have been innocent or something; the only possibility is that he knew the cake would burst when it was cut, so—"

"You sound like a detective, An-chan," Kaya said, giggling.

An paused, then laughed. "I guess I do," she admitted. "But still, it was completely unfair of them to pull something like this during what was supposed to be a truce."

"There are no such things as truces," a voice cut in. "Truces are only good for breaking, and for taking advantage of."

An turned around. Lion Mask Boy stood there, smiling haughtily. He gestured at her stained dress. "That's a nice look for you."

"Thanks," she replied through gritted teeth. "Were you the bard?"

"Me?" Lion Mask Boy was all wide-eyed innocence. "No, of course not. Why in the world would you think something like that? Don't think so lowly of me; I'm only trying to be friends." He gave an amiable smile, and waved to her friends, who giggled and waved back.

"So what's a Hyotei student doing here?" An asked loudly, and instantly Lion Mask Boy turned back to her, smiling slowly.

"What makes you think I'm from Hyotei?"

"RikkaiDai, then?"

"What makes you think I'm from RikkaiDai _or _Hyotei?" he asked, sounding genuinely offended. But his eyes gave away all the mischievous intent.

An decided that this kid was just looking for someone to slap him. "Because nobody from Seigaku or Fudominecould possibly be so rude. Or bake an explosive cake," she added, almost as an afterthought.

Lion Mask Boy smirked. "You're jealous because _your _school didn't think of it first," he replied simply. "Or that no one could possibly be smart enough to carry it out."

"You don't seem quite so smart yourself," she huffed.

Instead of denying it, he laughed and answered, "That's why I wasn't the bard."

An was finding it hard to concentrate. For one thing, there was a crowd of Fudomine students near the front who appeared to be in a . . . _sticky _predicament. Were their shoes stuck on bubble gum? An squinted. It was; there was a giant section of green bubblegum, and the Fudomine students were trying desperately to unstick themselves. Lion Mask Boy, she noticed, was smiling rather mischievously at a pink haired boy, who winked at him and blew a bubble—a bubble that was miraculously similar to the ones placed strategically on the floor.

"I don't like you," she said.

"I don't like you either," he said easily. "Want to dance?"

"Why in the world would I—hey!" An cried. Lion Mask Boy had grabbed her arm and dragged her off to the middle of the ballroom. There weren't many Hyotei or RikkaiDai students, it seemed—most of the people there were people she knew (_and covered in cake batter,_she realized with a grimace). The few Hyotei and RikkaiDai students that were present were far off to the side—away from where Lion Mask Boy was taking her.

He stopped when they were in the middle of all the Seigaku students, and asked, "Do you know how to waltz?"

"I've been taking dance lessons since I was seven. What do you think?"

He grinned. "Works for me."

_He's actually a pretty good dancer, _An realized. He was obviously confident in himself, and the way he danced left no room for mistakes. An was almost enjoying herself (emphasis on almost). _This is still a Hyotei student, _she thought distastefully.

The music had become faster, grown louder, and Lion Mask Boy was still leading, as confident as ever. "This is fun," he said, glancing at her. "Don't you think?" He spun her outwards and back.

An almost toppled over. "It'd be more enjoyable if you told me what you were doing."

Three quarter turn, another three quarter turn, _another _three quarter turn . . .

Lion Mask Boy shrugged. "Okay. I'm going to spin you out again. Toward all those people," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the crowd of Seigaku and Fudomine students.

An braced herself.

". . . And then I'm going to let go. Sorry. See? I'm apologizing in advance; such a gentleman, right?"

"Wait, _what?_"

He spun her out again, as promised, and suddenly released her hand. An really did topple over this time, falling into the crowd of Fudomine and Seigaku students—and creating the ultimate domino effect.

An stood up quickly, angrily dusting off her dress and ignoring the heap of students behind her. Where was he? _When I find him, I'm going to strangle him and tie him up against a flagpole, and kill him in eight different ways, that stupid, rude, evil Hyotei student, oh, Lion Mask Boy, you're going to die . . ._

But he was nowhere in sight.

* * *

He apologized in advance. Akaya's such a gentleman. Well, that's what he thinks. :) And the whole "I'm going to let go and drop you in a crowd of rival school students so you all topple over and embarrass yourselves" thing is Akaya's prank. The "I'm going to put bubblegum all over the dance floor where the Fudomine students are so you will all be stuck to the floor and ruin your shoes and embarrass yourselves" thing is Marui's prank. Such sweethearts, the two of them.


	4. Put Up Thy Sword

The dance turned out to be a rather disappointing event—for the teachers, Seigaku, and Fudomine, anyway. Needless to say, with RikkaiDai and Hyotei teamed up, the night ended with a bang.

Monday morning came slowly and sluggishly, and Akaya barely remembered any of it—only glaring at the few (thankfully) Seigaku and Fudomine students in his class. He recalled there being one girl in his class who looked vaguely familiar—short brown hair; it was a common hair color, so he didn't know where he'd seen it, but he knew, he _knew _he'd seen it somewhere. There weren't as many RikkaiDai students as he would have liked, but both Ohtori and Hiyoshi were in his class, and most of the Hyotei students knew him fairly well. As the days passed, he became fairly close to the two Hyotei regulars, and by the end of the week, he felt as though he'd known them all his life.

Ohtori, he learned, was too much of a goodie-goodie to pull any pranks, but Hiyoshi was very willing. In any case, Ohtori was always willing to bail them out of any trouble. Akaya approved.

And besides, his senpais were had pulled enough pranks for all of them. To the general student body, it was pretty obvious who did what, but without evidence, the teachers were helpless to do anything.

Of course, nobody admitted to putting sleeping pills in all the Fudomine students' water bottles (though Marui did look particularly giddy when it happened). Nobody admitted to standing twenty-seven Seigaku girls up (Yukimura kept a casual expression throughout the day) come Monday morning. Nobody admitted to switching the Seigaku students' locker combinations and causing chaos for about two hours (though Atobe was obviously the only person who could do so). Nobody admitted to putting frogs in the Fudomine boys' dorms (Shishido was smirking throughout it all). And, of course, nobody admitted to the ultimate cake explosion at the ball (oh, Niou-senpai).

That wasn't to say that RikkaiDai and Hyotei weren't pranked on, at all. But, similarly, nobody confessed—not to the seven mini-explosions in a row in the Hyotei laboratory (Inui was smiling evilly throughout), not to the embarrassing Hyotei photos put in the school newspaper (though Fuji was spotted with a camera and some very controversial film), not to the oil coated on the RikkaiDai tennis courts (Kamio had very cleverly hid the can of oil), and not to replacing the RikkaiDai tennis balls with neon pink ping-pong balls (though Eiji was spotted by several people carrying a suspiciously pink package to school that day).

It was chaos all around, and Akaya couldn't wait to cause some of his own.

* * *

An sighed idly. The school day had been less exciting than she thought it'd be, and awfully disappointing. For one, there had been way too many pranks to count. For another, her classes were swarming with RikkaiDai and Hyotei students, and almost no Seigaku or Fudomine students at all.

And Kirihara Akaya was in her class. She scowled at the thought of him. They'd yet to talk, and she suspected that he was barely aware of his presence, though she thought she'd felt him looking at her once or twice. The boy who injured her brother—what horrible luck she had, to end up in _his _class.

He acted like he ruled the world.

"An-chan!" Mi called, waving her over. "Come on! We're going to that cute bakery downtown, want to come?"

"Sure!" she called back. "Let me get my things, first."

An hurried back to the dorms. It was a beautiful building, fancy and roomy, but the fact that it was a Hyotei building made her cringe to no end. At least she was rooming with one of her friends; there were more Hyotei students than Fudomine students, and in the end, a few of them had to room with each other.

She shuddered involuntarily. Hyotei and RikkaiDai—ruthlessly go-getters, that was what they were. Who knew what they'd do?

_Speak of the devil, _she mused. _Literally. _

Kirihara walked by, chatting with some Hyotei student. Neither of them appeared to notice her—why were they walking near the girls' dorms, anyway? An almost considered asking them, but decided against it—her day was bad enough without having to talk to Kirihara. He seemed friendly enough, though—to his own people, anyway.

_Good, _she thought. _Let him stick to his own, and leave the rest of us alone. _

But still, there was something infuriatingly familiar about him—she could have sworn she'd seen him somewhere before—not at a tennis match. Nothing to do with tennis, but she knew she recognized him from someplace. She'd been trying to think of it since the day she saw him, and it was giving her a headache.

Just then, Kirihara glanced at her, and she almost turned red from the embarrassment of being caught staring. Still, she held his gaze. This proved it, then. It proved that he'd looked at her before. Maybe they _had _met before—but where? He seemed to remember her—or maybe he couldn't recall, either.

Now that she thought about it, it was a possibility. He stared at her as though he was trying to sort her, categorize her—it wasn't a feeling she preferred, and hoped her own stare was equally intimidating.

He turned away after a moment, and continued to talk to whomever he was talking to. Some boy with floppy brown hair—Hiyoshi, his name was. They were both in her class.

She found herself frowning again. Chances were that he had no idea who she was—or, if he did remember, he'd remember her as Tachibana's little sister, the little sister of the tennis player he'd beaten.

An huffed, and marched up to her dorm room, dumping her schoolbag on the floor with flourish and folding her arms. She stared at the wall contemplatively, then nodded to herself.

_He's better off not knowing who I am, _she thought bitingly, _and I'm better off, the same._

* * *

_Fridays have never been so boring, _Akaya thought. The pranks were over and done with, and Seigaku and Fudomine were enjoying their meager victories way too much. His nose crinkled in distaste as he thought of them.

Once again, he found himself hating the director of the school-board infinitely. It was his brilliant idea to put four rival schools in one fancy building, his brilliant idea to keep them there for six whole months.

What the hell was _he _on?

"Yo, Akaya."

Akaya turned around. There stood Marui and Niou, with two students—presumably Hyotei students—he'd never seen before. "Hey," Akaya greeted, walking over to them. "Do you see them? The Seigaku girls. They've contaminated the school garden. Now Mura-buchou can't even tend to it," he said disdainfully.

"Big words," Niou said approvingly. Akaya scowled. "Anyway, don't worry about it. Yukimura'll make Atobe build a garden especially for him, or something. You know he can."

One of the Hyotei students—a redhead—snorted. "Nobody can order Atobe around. He's got an ego the size of Japan."

Another boy, the one with short brown hair, retorted, "You think you're so smart. Japan's a pretty small country compared to all the other countries out there. If you'd said Canada or something, that would've been way more accurate. But it's too much to expect that from you."

Akaya arched an eyebrow and looked at his senpais questioningly. Marui choked back a laugh. "That's Gakuto, and that's Shishido. You've seen them, right? They're both doubles players." To the two of them, he added, "Don't be so sure. Yukimura's got this way of making people do things. No one has an ego big enough to withstand his powers, trust me. Niou's tried."

Niou didn't seem upset about it in the least. "Nobody beats our captain," he replied simply. "Besides, if I can't do it, then obviously Marui can't do it."

"Hey!"

"The brat here doesn't have much of a chance, either," Niou continued, ignoring Marui's outburst.

"I led the team to the Nationals, didn't I?" Akaya demanded, crossing his arms.

"So you did," Niou said soothingly. "So you did."

Shishido smiled wickedly. "Hiyoshi led the team to the Nationals too, but in the end, Atobe still holds the reins, doesn't he?"

"You shouldn't be so mean to Hiyoshi," Gakuto admonished. "He's not _that _bad."

"The kid looks like a mushroom," Shishido replied dubiously. Niou burst into a fit of laughter.

"The fact that he looks like a mushroom doesn't make him evil," Gakuto said defensively.

"Well, he's way too quiet for his own good. Can you believe he's still not over that 'overthrow' thing? We're in high school already; next thing you know he's going to follow Atobe to work and try to take his spot as president of a company or something."

Gakuto paused, and repeated, "He's not _that _bad."

Akaya added, "He's pretty good when it comes to brainstorming for pranks and stuff. We were talking about it today." For a second, his mind flitted back to the hair-clipped girl with the blue eyes. "It's still in the planning stages, though."

This caught Shishido's attention. "Yeah? Have you two pranked anybody yet? Gakuto and I were going to get started on one now. It's going to be our last one for the week."

"We're helping," Marui added. "Hey, come with us. It'll be fun."

He didn't have to think about it; the week had been boring, and he'd yet to pull a prank outside of the dance. "Sure."

* * *

An stared in horror at the mess that was once her room. Her roommate was still standing agape. "Oh my _God,_" An breathed. "What happened here?"

"They switched the furniture," her roommate explained, waiting for An to explode. "That is, they switched the furniture from the boys' dorms with the furniture from the girls' dorms." She gave the messy room one last glance, then added ruefully, "They weren't very neat about it, either."

"Hyotei should stop abusing their privileges," An replied moodily.

"That's like telling someone to stop breathing," her roommate snorted. "Not going to happen. Let's go raid the boys' dorms. Our stuff's got to be there somewhere, right?"

"Hyotei and RikkaiDai," she muttered, and walked out of the dorm room. Her roommate followed close behind. "Like they haven't pulled enough pranks already. Why haven't the teachers caught them yet? They should just . . . expel them all!"

"They couldn't do that," her roommate pointed out soothingly. "Hyotei was the one to donate the buildings, after all. They're paying for the whole project."

"The project was an idiotic idea to begin with."

"It was," she acknowledged, "but ranting about it won't help, An-chan."

An sighed. "I guess so. Don't they have cameras around here or something?"

"Probably got disabled."

"Well, they'd need someone _smart_ to do that," An snapped, walking out of the building. Her roommate hurried to close the door behind her. "And if that's the case, I have no idea how Hyotei or RikkaiDai could've pulled it off. They're all rock-heads."

"Who're you calling a rock-head, miss?"

That voice sounded so familiar—but Kirihara was the only one standing there, leaning against the walls and smiling smugly. "If anyone's the brute, I'd say it's . . ." He checked her uniform. "Fudomine."

She'd never spoken a word to Kirihara—not since junior high, anyway. But she knew she'd heard that voice somewhere before. "Youshouldn't be talking, you hypocrite," she retorted. "Aren't you the one who has to rely on beating people up in tennis matches? Not smart enough to think up a strategy, I see."

He seemed surprised for a moment, and An wondered if he hadn't been expecting a sharp comeback. Instead, he said, "I think we've met before."

An took a deep breath to refrain from punching him, maybe tasering him. "You broke my brother's leg and put him in the hospital for nearly a month," she emphasized slowly. To her extreme annoyance, he seemed blank, and she was seriously starting to entertain the idea of breaking his neck. Her roommate tugged on her arm nervously. An shook her off. It took a few moments for her to calm down, and even then, her eyes were livid.

"Tachibana Kippei," she clarified at last. "My brother."

His expression cleared. "Oh," he said. "Yeah, that's right. But that's not what I meant." He waved it off as though it were nothing. An willed lightning to come from the heavens and strike him down right then and there, and was supremely disappointed when it did not do so. "'Cause I don't think we talked when I was playing that tennis match with your brother."

"That might be right," she said thinly. "You were too busy breaking his leg."

He folded both arms behind his neck and smiled casually. "And?"

"An-chan, we should go," her roommate whispered, increasingly anxious.

"No," An hissed. "This guy is—he—!"

"You know, you argue too much for a girl," Kirihara said offhandedly. He paused, considering his words.

**---**

"_You argue too much for a girl."_

"_You whine too much for a boy."_

**---**

An's eyes widened. "And you whine too much for a boy."

That got his attention. He stood up straight and stared at her for what seemed like a century. Once again, An noted the intense, vivid shade of his eyes. "No way." He seemed to consider her for a moment, then cracked a grin. "So _that's _where I saw you!"

An clenched her fists at her sides and stomped over to him, jabbing a finger in his face. "You pushed me into a crowd of students and sent everyone falling!" she fumed. "I should've expected it was you!"

Kirihara didn't even blink. "You looked more intimidating without the pink-heart barrettes," he said nonchalantly, and pushed himself off the wall. "Later, Red Dress Girl."

* * *

Akaya turned the corner, where Marui was waiting. "Were you eavesdropping?"

"Of course," Marui replied bluntly. "I'm supposed to keep an eye on you. You know, make sure you're not consorting with the enemy."

"Stupid Niou-senpai," Akaya said sullenly.

"Anyway, this Red Dress Girl," Marui said, mussing Akaya's hair, "she's pretty cute."

Akaya scowled. "Is not."

"Too bad she's from Fudomine," Marui added thoughtfully, ignoring Akaya's comment. "If not, I might actually like her, you know?"

"Would not."

"And we could have like, this cool love triangle thing, where she and I love each other, and you're like, the helpless third party or something."

"Could not!"

Marui grinned down at him. "You better not like her," he warned. "Or there's going to be trouble."

"Do not," Akaya replied stubbornly, and crossed his arms. "If anything, _you _better not like her."

"Or what?" Marui asked, smirking. "You'll be jealous and pout me to death?"

"Or Mura-buchou'll kill you, if fukubuchou doesn't kill you first," Akaya said seriously.

Marui tossed his head back and laughed. "I know better than to fall for a Fudomine girl," he replied easily, and slung an arm around Akaya's shoulder. "We're RikkaiDai regulars. The rules apply way more to us than anybody else. And isn't she the little sister of that Fudomine captain?"

"Tachibana Kippei," Akaya clarified.

"Yeah, him. No flirting with the enemy, got it?"

"Of course," he answered, punching him in the arm. "Let go."

Marui laughed again, and conceded. "The kid's growing up," he said fondly, half to himself. "Let's go; Sanada wants to talk to us about rescheduling practice or something, and he told me to get you."

"He should've picked someone more responsible."

"I'm plenty responsible!" Marui protested. "Rude."

They bantered the rest of the way to the courts, Akaya casting a last glance toward the girls' dorms before leaving. If Marui noticed, he didn't mention it, and Akaya didn't bring it up.


	5. Tis Torture, and Not Mercy

This is random, but on my Microsoft autocorrect, _Momoshiro _isn't a word. So, out of curiosity, I wondered what the computer thought I'd misspelled it as. And the suggested spelling was _moocher. _Momoshiro. Moocher. See a connection?

Nah, I love Momoshiro. Even if he eats a bit too much.

_Russian Roulette _next. :) Hopefully.

* * *

Akaya followed his seniors into the auditorium, where most of the students were shifting anxiously. He noted with some satisfaction that the students were separated according to school—the Hyotei and RikkaiDai members were off to the left, and everybody else (_Losers, _he thought) was to the right.

"Wonder what they called us down here for," Marui murmured lazily. "Why are we late, again?"

"Because Mura-buchou wants a dramatic entrance," Akaya replied matter-of-factly.

Yukimura smiled fondly at them. "Atobe will be the one making the speech. If we come late, we create a much more intimidating effect." He eyed the student body, who, surely enough, were staring at them. The RikkaiDai students watched with pride, and Hyotei with respect.

Akaya couldn't have cared less what the Seigaku and Fudomine students thought.

"Will the late students please be seated? Your tardiness is not appreciated," the headmaster said, sounding annoyed. Atobe stood next to him, and eyed Yukimura with an amused smile. Yukimura made a vague gesture, and Atobe nodded briefly, leaning closer to the headmaster and whispering something to him. The headmaster seemed startled, then embarrassed as he said, "I apologize."

Yukimura nodded in reply, and took a seat cleared out in the front row.

There were faint mutters of "_What a jerk," _and "_How conceited are these guys?" _but a glare from Akaya promptly shut them up. Yukimura glanced approvingly at him, and Akaya beamed in reply.

"As you all know," the headmaster began, "the first week of school was but a trial run. Official classes begin now, and starting today, you will be able to choose your electives. Each student has the option of selecting three electives, and I highly recommend making the most of this opportunity. Atobe Corp. has generally provided us with the best possible equipment and resources."

"Knowing Atobe, the Seigaku and Fudomine equipment is probably rigged," a student muttered.

The headmaster fixed said student with a glare. "Students will have the option of selecting two of their classmates to be in their future elected classes. You will each be presented with a list of all the students in your grade. However, as part of the exchange program," he continued, "of the two selected classmates, one must be from a separate school."

Shishido called out, "Does that mean Hyotei can select a RikkaiDai student?"

The headmaster answered in the negative. "Hyotei and RikkaiDai must select students from Seigaku or Fudomine, and vice versa," he replied, and was answered by a chorus of groans and complaints. "This is an exchange program," he reminded the students. "The purpose of the exchange is to mix our four schools, and for you all to make new friends." The headmaster left the stage to let the students talk amongst themselves for a few moments, and instantly, the noise level rose tenfold.

Akaya rolled his eyes, while Niou and Shishido burst into hysterical fits of laughter. Similarly, Seigaku and Fudomine's Kamio and Momoshiro looked like they were about to boo the headmaster offstage, refraining only at their captains' commands. _They're like sheep, _he thought. _Weird, boring, uncool, lame—damn it, now I sound like Shishido-san. _

Niou slung an arm around him and grinned. "Isn't this just all wonderfully exciting," he drawled.

"Get off," Akaya replied halfheartedly.

Marui slung an arm around Akaya's other shoulder; he and Niou rocked him back and forth. Akaya was beginning to feel airsick. "Wonderfully, wonderfully exciting," he replied cheerily. "Yo, Niou. Let's pick each other—we'll be guaranteed to be in the same classes. And for our victims . . ." His eyes flashed as he surveyed the crowd. "Let's pick the Golden Pair. They'll be fun to break."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Niou agreed approvingly. "I'd go for Tezuka, but I think Yukimura wants to keep him to himself."

Akaya scowled. "Do you know how weird that sounds? Get_ off._"

"Only when Niou says it," Marui pointed out. "Niou can make anything sound wrong." He sounded almost envious, and Akaya rolled his eyes again. "Hey, Niou. Say 'I like cake.'"

Niou grinned, knowing where Marui was going with this. "I _like _cake," he said suggestively, and wagged his eyebrows. Marui doubled over in laughter, and Akaya edged away from both of them.

"Who're you going to pick, kid?" Niou asked. His eyes shone. "Maybe that girl you were staring at during the dance?"

"Who, Red Dress Girl?"

"You saw her too?"

"He was teasing her yesterday," Marui said, pointing at Akaya. "Pretty bad at it, too."

"I was _not_," Akaya grumbled, shoving both of them away. "You two are weird. I'm going to talk to buchou."

"Bye, Lover Boy," Niou called back cheerfully. "Don't go making friends with the enemy, got it?"

Yukimura was giving him an amused look as he approached, whereas Sanada seemed overly annoyed. "I could hear you three from over here," Sanada said, frowning. "Don't be so rowdy."

"It was all Niou-senpai and Marui-senpai," Akaya protested, folding his arms. "Don't be so quick to blame me for everything. Niou-senpai's usually at the root of it."

Yagyuu, who was sitting behind them, turned away from his conversation long enough to agree. "It's true," he conceded. "Niou-kun has quite the sadistic streak, I fear." He glanced at Niou and Marui, who were a few seats away, looking positively evil. "Oishi-kun and Kikumaru-kun are going to have a rather hard time."

"Who are you choosing, Yagyuu?" Yukimura inquired.

He frowned. "I haven't decided. I think perhaps I'll choose someone random from the list they provide us."

"Don't you want to partake in any of the pranks? It's always fun to have enemies."

Yagyuu gave a wry smile. "I'll have to, eventually," he pointed out, and nodded his head toward Niou. "For now, I'll simply take the time to get used to the flow of things. When I prank someone, you'll know it," he assured. "And you?"

"Sanada and I are picking each other," Yukimura replied brightly. "And we're both going to choose Tezuka."

"Is that wise?" Yagyuu asked. "Sanada-kun has quite the grudge against him, doesn't he?"

Yukimura smiled slowly. "That's why we're choosing him."

The two of them turned to Akaya. "And you?"

"What?" Akaya asked defensively.

Yukimura laughed. "Have you decided who you're choosing?"

Akaya's eyes wandered to a brunette with pink barrettes in her hair. "Yeah, maybe."

Yukimura's eyes narrowed. "I've nothing against a female victim, Akaya, but take this seriously. And don't get too attached to our enemies."

"I know!" Akaya assured defensively. "She just . . . _really _annoyed me last time I saw her. I thought I'd return the favor."

"Nothing worse than divided loyalties!" Niou called loudly from a few rows away.

"How can he hear me?" Akaya demanded in disbelief. "I was whispering!"

"It's Niou," Yagyuu pointed out reasonably. "That explains it all."

"You'll have to pick someone else, though," Sanada noted. "You're not going to pick two Seigaku or Fudomine members, are you? Even you know that's dangerous."

Akaya shook his head. "Not a chance. Hiyoshi, Ohtori, and I have this all planned out," he said smugly. "I'm picking Hiyoshi, and Hiyoshi's picking Ohtori. Ohtori's going to pick me, so there's no chance we'll get separated. We've got our victims all sorted out, too. Hiyoshi's going to pick Momoshiro, since their doubles two seniors have a grudge against him, or something, and Ohtori's picking the blue-haired mumbling guy."

Yukimura nodded approvingly. "Clever," he agreed. "Momoshiro and Kaido together are a force to be reckoned with; it's good to split them apart. I do wish we had more second-year members on our team. It's a shame that the only other decent second-year tennis players are only on Hyotei's team."

"What do you mean, 'other'?" Marui called. "Akaya's not such a hotshot either!"

A few muffled giggles sounded, and Akaya shot up from his seat, marching over to them and clearly preparing to put his much shorter senior in a headlock.

"Don't forget to think carefully about your chosen electives, Akaya!" Yukimura reminded him as he walked away. "You, Hiyoshi, and Ohtori will have to pick the same electives for you all to be in the same class."

"Got it!"

"And also," he added, his voice dropping a tone and darkening a ton, "be sure to pick classes you can wreak more havoc in, and still get away with it."

"You bet."

* * *

"An-chan," Kaya said, poking her arm. "An-chan. _An-chan. _Are you there?"

"Huh? What?" An jolted upwards, tearing her gaze away from the group of RikkaiDai students and back toward Kaya. "I'm sorry, Kaya. I was just looking for someone."

Kaya looked dubious. "Someone from RikkaiDai?" she asked doubtfully. "You've been really out of it lately. Is everything okay?"

"Ever since the dance," Mi-chan agreed. "Is it that kid with the lion mask again? Don't let him get to you; you'll probably never even see him again. Besides, this is our chance to get back at them, right? If we pick our opponents wisely, then we can cause some chaos of our own." She smiled slowly. "Fuji-senpai said he'd help us with it, if we wanted."

Kaya practically climbed over An in an attempt to talk to Mi-chan. "Really?" she asked, her mouth wide and her eyes sparkling. "_Fuji-senpai?_ He's so handsome," she cooed. "Almost as handsome as that guy who asked twenty girls out on a date." Her expression was instantly dreamy.

"More handsome," Mi-chan said stubbornly, "because Fuji-senpai is from Seigaku, and that other guy was from Hyotei or RikkaiDai or whatever."

Kaya nodded firmly, dropping her dreamy smile. "You're right. Fuji-senpai's way cooler," she said fiercely.

An rolled her eyes. "This whole thing is silly," she said. "What's the point? It's just a bunch of arguing. Do you even know how this whole thing started? _I _don't, and I bet the original reason is just as stupid as the fighting now."

"Stay strong, An-chan," Mi-chan teased. "Don't give in to them! We have to stay loyal."

An couldn't resist a smile. "It's not a war, Mi-chan," she reminded.

"Ah, but it is."

An turned around and smiled. "Hello, Fuji-san."

"I think I'm Fuji-senpai now," he said mirthfully. "What do you think of this whole thing? It's quite opportunistic for some of us, isn't it?"

"I don't think I'll really be taking part in many of the pranks," she admitted. "Those two, maybe." She gestured toward Mi and Kaya, who were diving their time between admiring Fuji and plotting. "It's too much effort, and in the end, not really worth it."

Fuji smiled softly. "You're a kind figure, An," he acknowledged warmly. "It must take quite a bit of self-restraint to behave as you do. I admire you for it."

She blushed. "Thank you," she replied self-consciously. "But it's really not as you say."

Why couldn't Lion Mask Boy—correction, _Kirihara Akaya—_be as much of a gentleman? He was all pranks and mischief—though technically, she'd only known him for a short period of time. She grimaced. _Still, _she granted, _he makes quite a strong first impression. _Her dorm room was probably still a horrific mess.

It took her a few moments to snap out of her pondering and realize that Fuji had said something. "What electives will you be taking?"

She gathered her thoughts as quickly as she could and replied hastily, "I'm really not sure yet. I think I'd like to learn to play the flute," she said slowly, "so I suppose I should choose the beginner's band as an elective. And perhaps music theory, as well. I play the piano, so it shouldn't be too difficult for me."

Fuji nodded. "You must love the arts very much," he commented.

"I've always loved classical music," An admitted. "And the flute is such a pretty instrument. I wish I could join the orchestra, too; the violin would be lovely to play; but I think we're limited to two music electives per term."

Fuji murmured agreement. "I know someone who plays the violin. Perhaps he could give you lessons outside of school," he offered. "I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem; he's always looking for opportunities to show off."

An laughed. "That's all right, but thank you for the offer. I could always ask my parents to find me a violin teacher if need be. For now, though, I'll be happy with just learning the flute."

"Beginner's band class and music theory," Fuji repeated, smiling. "And for your third elective?"

"Why do you ask?" An inquired, genuinely curious.

Fuji was the one to laugh. "You've caught me," he admitted. "I'm hoping to set you up with Momoshiro. He's quite fond of you. Kamio too, as a matter of fact. It's a pity I can't attend the second-year classes."

An hesitated. "I think I'll take Shakespearean literature," she said at last.

Fuji seemed surprised. "Wouldn't that be easy for you? You don't seem like the type to take the easy way out, An."

She shook her head. "I've only read two of Shakespeare's plays," she explained. "Romeo and Juliet, and The Tempest. I'd love to read more of them, and it's much better if I analyze the plays in class instead of by myself, at home. I'm less likely to misinterpret things, that way."

Fuji smiled knowingly. "You can never misinterpret something. There's a different interpretation for everybody, An. However you choose to read into it—that's your interpretation."

Before An could think of a reply, he continued, "I really should go. Tezuka has his hands full; I believe Yukimura is picking him for an elective partner."

"I see," An said, mildly worried. "I'm sure he'll think of something."

"He might," Fuji said vaguely. "I'll be taking my leave, then. Goodbye, An." He smiled charmingly at her, then left.

An didn't think much of it. Moments later, Fuji returned—from a completely different direction. An smiled at him. "Back so soon?"

He seemed baffled. "'Back'?" he repeated. "What do you mean, An?"

"You were here moments ago," An replied, equally confused. "What are you talking about, Fuji-senpai?"

Fuji shook his head. "I was sitting with Tezuka the majority of the meeting. I've only left my seat just now," he said. His blue eyes were tinged with both curiosity and amusement.

"Then who was I . . ."

* * *

"Niou-senpai," Akaya greeted. "Where'd you go?"

Niou waved the question off. "Nowhere in particular," he answered vaguely. "By the way, that An girl is taking beginner's band, music theory, and Shakespearean literature. Thought you might like to know." Without waiting for a response, he ruffled Akaya's hair and said, "You're welcome."

He left, presumably to talk to Yagyuu, who'd waved him over urgently, along with Oshitari. Akaya heard a faint murmur of, "Oshitari; how are your violin lessons going?"

Marui turned to Akaya. "Do you want to know how he got that information?"

Akaya shook his head.

Marui sighed. "Yeah, me neither."

* * *

_It's great weather, _Akaya decided, spinning his tennis racquet with one hand and blocking his eyes with the other. _It'd be even greater weather if it weren't so hot. _

"Akaya!" Marui called, waving his arms madly. "One set match. How about it?"

Akaya raised his racquet in agreement, and got in position. Sanada and Yukimura had yet to arrive—probably talking to Atobe about something—and he might as well take advantage of not being yelled at while he still could. _But this is weird, _he thought, glancing at the other tennis courts, where Shishido and Ohtori were playing a match against Oshitari and Mukahi. He'd never had to share a tennis court with anyone outside of RikkaiDai before—or at least, since he went to middle school.

_There are four courts, _he thought. _Why is Hyotei sharing a court with us? _

A sharp service ace drew his attention away from his thoughts. "That's not fair!" he called. "I wasn't ready!"

"You were in position," Marui pointed out. "Not my fault you were spacing out. Come on—we both know we're going to win, but you might as well _try _to make it hard for me." He served again. "It's okay; I won't hold anything against you for being mediocre in comparison to your gifted, talented genius of a senior—" A swift return cut his words short, and Marui pointed a racquet at Akaya's smugly smiling face. "You've got _no _manners whatsoever."

Akaya, in a gesture of maturity, stuck his tongue out.

Marui huffed. "It's _on, _Akaya," he warned, and served again.

Atobe and Yukimura watched in amusement as Sanada pulled a few fighting freshmen apart, and gave Niou a thorough scolding for instigating the fight. "You've got an interesting team," Atobe commented.

Yukimura eyed the bickering Hyotei doubles one and doubles two pairs, with Gakuto all but leaping over the net to whack Shishido with his tennis racquet, shouting obscenities, and Shishido goading him on. Oshitari nearly had to lift Gakuto off the ground to restrain him—which really wasn't a very difficult task—and Ohtori was attempting to calm Shishido, pleading naively for him to stop. "You, too."

The two of them glanced at one another. "It's agreed upon, then?"

Atobe nodded. "We have an alliance. Officially," he added, with some sort of mirth. "Hyotei would have allied with you to begin with, Yukimura. I don't see why you'd doubt that."

Yukimura smiled. "It's only a precaution," he assured. "Take no offense to it. But we need a firmness and strictness in any and all alliances, just to be safe. Seigaku and Fudomine aren't to go unpunished for everything that's happened within the past decade."

"Agreed."

* * *

"Students," the teacher said, handing out a series of sheets. "You're to fill in the bubble that represents the elective you've chosen, and write two names beside your own—one _must _be from a separate school. Fill in the bubbles with either pencil or pen, but if pen, it must be in blue or black ink."

"Yeah, yeah," Akaya muttered, taking his paper and filling out the bubbles messily.

He filled in the bubbles next to beginner's band, music appreciation, and Shakespearean literature. And beside his name, he wrote Hiyoshi Wakashi, and Tachibana An.


	6. Why, Romeo, Art Thou Mad?

I'm aliiiiiiiive!

Also, I love Akaya. Because he plays the bassoon. (There's a picture of it, I swear. If you want the link, I'll send it to you.)

This is more of a filler chapter than anything; there's just so much to do, you know? I finished taking my state tests yesterday, and on Monday I have history finals. Why are there so many kings named Charles and Louis and Henry and Philip?

* * *

An looked at her schedule. She should've been happy—she really should've. She got all her electives—band, music theory, and Shakespearean literature. She wanted to be happy. Mi-chan was in her electives, and some random girl from Hyotei. She could live with that.

The day had gone pretty smoothly. They'd received their uniforms yesterday—a pretty black blazer set with a matching ruffled skirt. A soft white blouse underneath, and a green tie (for the tenth graders, at least). It was the high class, formal type of thing she'd always wanted to buy, but never got around to. She really did love the uniform.

The building was beautiful, she had a decent schedule. All was well.

But.

There was no way life was going to let her off that easily.

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. Homeroom would end in a few minutes, and she had her schedule memorized. Glancing around, she saw that most people were huddled together in cliques—not surprising, since her homeroom was an odd mix of Seigaku and Hyotei. Momoshiro was in her homeroom class—she wanted to go say hi to him, but he seemed rather preoccupied, arguing with a Hyotei eleventh grader.

This year was going to be _awful. _

"Mi-chan," she murmured. "What floor is your first class on?"

Mi smiled ruefully. "I have history first. Ninth floor. Why are there eleven floors in this stupid building?"

"They have escalators," An pointed out.

"But you just know that there are going to be a hundred people crowded on those escalators," she said spitefully. "RikkaiDai and Hyotei sloths, I'll bet. And we'll have to walk _eleven stupid floors._"

"We'll survive."

The end bell rang, and An waved a quick goodbye before running down to the first floor. She had math first period; trigonometry, which she didn't like much. Algebra and geometry suited her more, she supposed; it was logic, all logic. With trigonometry, though—it was more memorization than anything. She wasn't good with memorizing.

_Why are these stairs so . . . long_? They had to have been thirty steps each—leave it to Hyotei to have buildings with ridiculously high ceilings. It was definitely a pretty building, though; the floors were carpeted, a dark velvety purple with the fleur-de-lys design patterned on it. She suspected Atobe picked it out himself.

Light classical music played in the background. The school felt more like a medieval castle. Or . . . a Baroque castle. She was pretty sure that the tune in the background was from Vivaldi's Primavera. _It's beautiful, _she thought. But there probably weren't many students who shared her sentiment; Hyotei, maybe, and possibly even RikkaiDai. But from what she knew, most of the Seigaku and Fudomine students wouldn't care much for it; there were those rare few, like Tezuka, Fuji, or her older brother—but people like Kamio and Momoshiro?

She doubted it—but she loved them for it.

The wallpaper was a creamy sort of white (there must've been some fancy word for it. Eggplant, or something?), and few steps there'd be a painting of a landscape. Kamio had told her that he'd spotted a painting of Atobe Keigo himself—and that he'd drawn a moustache on it. An giggled at the thought, and wondered if anybody had replaced it yet.

At least she was going downstairs; she couldn't begin to imagine what it'd be like, climbing up eleven flights of stairs. She'd have to eventually, though—An grimaced. Her Shakespearean literature class was on the eleventh floor.

Students rushed past her, and An tried to keep her bag in place. What floor was she on?

"Ouch!" She bumped face-first into someone, and her bag flew from her grip. The floor fell from under her, and all of a sudden, she was flying down the stairs. Someone grabbed her hand just before her face made contact with the pretty, carpeted floor, and she used the remaining strength she had to hold onto the railing. "I'm so sorry," she breathed, and grabbed her bag. "Thanks!"

And down the stairs she ran. She wondered briefly who'd been kind enough to keep her from falling, but decided against it as the bell rung.

It took her a few moments to find her classroom, and when she finally did, she flung the door open. (It was, admittedly, a very pretty door. Atobe and Hyotei were jerks in general, but she'd acknowledge that they had superior taste in interior design.) The teacher was speaking when she entered, and she did her best to avoid all eye contact as she made her way to an available seat.

". . . and you'll be seated alphabetically. I'm sure you're all used to this procedure, yes?" The math teacher wasn't particularly friendly-looking. She seemed like the type who'd complain about the smallest miscalculations; and she gave An a look as she said, "From now on, I expect you all to be perfectly on time to class. Tardiness is not appreciated here."

_It's not like I'm usually tardy, _she thought sulkily, but joined in with the rest of the class as they chorused, "Yes, miss."

It was usual first day procedures for the rest of the period—seat placements, general classroom expectations, a lecture about prohibitions and whatnot, and then she was off, ready to endure the same forty minutes of torture for another class.

* * *

"Can't believe there's no morning practice," Akaya muttered to himself. Just because it was the first day of classes! Technically, it wasn't even the first day of school, since he'd been in the stupid school on the day of the stupid ball which was just plain _stupid. _He couldn't skip homeroom, because of _course _morning practice had to be canceled on the first day of school. Who came up with that stupid rule?

Homeroom had proved to be relatively boring. The highlight of the day had been keeping some klutzy girl from falling down the stairs and getting a concussion, and the girl hadn't even bothered turning around. Some thanks that had been.

He hated the new uniforms. Students, no matter their school, had to wear the same uniform. _Conformity, _he thought resentfully. The girls uniform wasn't anything different from what the RikkaiDai and Hyotei girls usually wore; a black blazer and skirt, and ties of different colors depending on their grade. It was simple.

But the boys.

The _boys. _

Akaya fought the urge to punch the wall.

(Or a ninth grader's face.)

They had to wear _scarves. _

("They're called ascots, Akaya," Yukimura had told him. "And you look very nice in them.")

They were puffy scarves!

Scarves.

That were _puffy._

It was like . . . like . . . like wearing a parrot under your suit or something!

Who the hell designed the stupid thing? Who designed the _building_? The floors were freaking purple! With flowers! Something boring was playing in the background, and some paintings were hung on the walls. Akaya didn't get it; why would anyone want to shove a bunch of teenagers in a building that looked like it belonged in the seventeenth century?

His first class was history, on the eleventh floor. He had the most ridiculous schedule—eleventh floor to fifth floor to ninth floor to first floor to—he hadn't memorized everything yet, but come _on. _That had to be the craziest schedule ever.

So he did his best to live through the day, and was indisputably relieved when it came time for lunch. All the students had different lunch periods, but he'd compared schedules with his seniors earlier that day. Yukimura-buchou, Niou-senpai, and Marui-senpai all had the same lunch period as him. He was ecstatic. Sanada-fukubuchou and Yanagi were both in his graphing class (a class for students of all grades—thank _God_), and Jackal-senpai and Yagyuu-senpai were in his foreign languages class. He had classes with all of them, and he'd see them at practice, too. Truthfully, as long as he had classes with his teammates, he didn't mind all the ridiculous floor-climbing.

Most of the students had seated themselves into cliques already by the time Akaya walked into the cafeteria (which looked undeniably like a banquet, with its fancy round tables and flowers). He spotted Marui-senpai easily, and walked over to their table. Niou was laughing over something, and Yukimura-buchou looked torn between being impressed, laughing along, and scolding him.

"What's going on?"

Marui looked up and grinned. "About time you got here! Where were you?"

"Ninth floor," Akaya grumbled. "Don't ask."

"Wasn't gonna," Marui admitted, and leaned back. "Niou, tell him what happened."

But Niou was too busy trying to catch his breath from all the hysterical laughter. "Gimme . . ." he gasped, "one . . . second."

Yukimura sighed ruefully and gave Akaya a smile. "Isn't the building lovely? Very nicely decorated."

Akaya thought for a moment. "It's okay," he conceded. "It's not falling apart or anything." He shrugged. "It's just—not my type of thing."

"Have your electives started yet?"

"Next period," Akaya replied, sounding distinctly satisfied. "My band class is next period. Then math, science, Shakespearean literature, phys-ed, and music theory."

Yukimura seemed surprised. "You're taking quite a few music classes. I knew you played bassoon, but . . . Are you interested in pursuing a career in music, perhaps?"

Akaya waved the thought away. "Nah. It's just . . . an interest, that's all." He was only joining the intermediate band, anyhow. They'd come up with the program as a way to dupe students into playing music, he supposed. Students who already knew how to play one instrument—be it violin, piano, or whatever—were given the option to join intermediate band, and learn a new instrument. He guessed it was because they knew how to read notes.

He snorted. _They're going to suck so badly. _

"Sanada," Niou managed, "Sanada pushed . . ." And he fell into another heap of cackles. Marui, susceptible to hysteria (or at least, Niou-mania), began laughing too. Soon the two of them were doubled over, pounding their fists on the table and knocking over the vase of flowers without a second thought. Students looked at them whispered, some amused (because they were used to it), and some frightened (because they'd never seen anything like it; were they drunk? Mentally unstable?).

"Sanada _accidentally _pushed a boy from Seigaku into the girls' changing rooms," Yukimura explained briefly, emphasizing the "accidentally". "And he's sorry he did that. Even though he didn't say so."

"Which boy?" Akaya asked, curious. "Or is it some random kid?"

Yukimura smiled a little. "Fuji Syusuke."

Akaya's mouth fell open in a wide gape, soon to be replaced by a wicked smile. "Ha! Serves him right. I _hate _that guy—"

"Wait," Niou interjected, still laughing. "That's not all!"

It was like Christmas had come early. "There's more? Tell me!"

"You . . . it . . . rock . . ." Another fit of laughter.

"I it rock," Akaya repeated slowly.

Yukimura gave a defeated sigh. "Sanada _accidentally _dropped a bag of marbles on Fuji's foot. Which _accidentally _rolled into the girls' changing rooms. Which _accidentally _caused . . . some degree of chaos."

"Why did he have marbles on him?" Akaya asked confusedly.

Niou snickered. "It _accidentally _found its way into his book bag, which _accidentally _found its way into his hand, which _accidentally _slipped from his grip."

"Like anyone's gonna believe that," Marui snorted. "It's like telling everyone you ate an octopus for breakfast and _that's _how you have all those red marks on your neck." He wagged his eyebrows at Niou, who began laughing again.

"My stomach hurts," Niou gasped, and fell off his chair.

"What do octopi have to do with red marks on your neck?" Akaya demanded. "I don't get it."

Yukimura smiled gently. "You don't need to know," he assured. "Have some crème brûlée."

* * *

An was definitely looking forward to her band class. The flute! Just think!

There were so many beautiful pieces she could play. She'd work hard, she'd practice hours each day until she knew the pieces like the back of her hand. It was such a pretty instrument, elegant and beautiful in every way. Winds instruments were hard, sure, but she'd manage it. She always did have a knack for music.

The flute was heavier than she expected. Her family had bought one for her a few yeas ago, but she'd never taken formal lessons—only played around with it. Piano playing gave her decent pitch, but a winds instrument was like another world altogether.

She loved it.

The band room was on the first floor, in a beautiful room with stained glass windows and a dimmer. Students who didn't have their own instruments could borrow from the school, and there was a special room where students could store their own instruments, if they chose to do so.

_I'll have to bring a lock, _she thought.

Most of the students hadn't arrived yet. There were a few freshmen, but mostly sophomores. _Was I that short_? she wondered. Surely not.

The band teacher seemed nice enough, and while she hadn't met many of her new classmates yet, she knew she'd enjoy it—something about being around so many instruments, all this music—it made her happy.

"Look who it is."

_Oh God please no don't do this to me—_

". . . Kirihara," she replied slowly, and turned around. There he stood, with some ridiculously huge instrument. "Good afternoon." _You pompous, arrogant, pranking son of a—_

He grinned at her. "No need to be so friendly!" She couldn't tell if he was joking or if it was sarcasm. "You play the flute?"

"I'm learning," she said laconically.

"That's _fantastic,_" he said, in this voice that indicated it wouldn't be fantastic at all.

Not for An, anyway.

"Because guess what?" he continued. "The double reed players sit right next to the flautists. So we're going to be sitting next to each other all semester." He plopped down in the seat next to her and beamed. "It's a pleasure to meet you."


	7. Deny Thy Father and Refuse Thy Name

I have an awful fever, but I had to finish this. I really did want this to be longer, but I'm just too tired to write much. Sorry. :(

_Check Yes Juliet _by We The Kings, is _so _this story's theme song.

* * *

An had been looking forward to the first day of band class ever since she learned she'd been accepted into the program. Intermediate level, at that. It'd be difficult for her to catch up, she knew, but it'd be worth it. Piano was just too common an instrument, and she wanted something that'd set her apart. In any case, she was always excited to learn something new, and this was the perfect opportunity.

Still, that didn't mean she had to be happy about being placed two seats from Kirihara for the rest of the year.

He seemed to have many friends amongst the double reed players, in any case. He was sitting in the first chair, as though he knew that he'd be seated there, anyway—which An didn't put past him. He was awfully cocky—she knew that from experience.

They'd retrieved their instruments already, and An noted that most—all?—of the people in the room were tenth graders. They honked away at their instruments, and the room was an unpleasant mix of sounds. She wondered briefly if any of the tennis regulars were in the band class. Probably nobody from Seigaku, although she recalled that Tezuka had some knowledge of the cello. Surely nobody from Fudomine. Oshitari from Hyotei was quite good at the violin, so he might have been in the orchestra. Still, as far as she knew, orchestra members didn't associate with band members-and when she remembered Oshitari's arrogance, she noted that it was probably for the better.

She'd seen Marui of RikkaiDai carrying a trumpet the other day, so he might have played an instrument. Yukimura was supposed to be very good at the flute, according to her brother, and she was faintly annoyed by the thought of having to play the same instrument as somebody like Yukimura. But music wasn't measured by the type of person playing it, and she took some comfort in that.

She never imagined that Kirihara would play the bassoon, of all things.

The band teacher finally walked into the room, conducting wand in hand. "Well, you all look like a bright bunch of students," he said cheerily. There was an obvious accent to his voice—French? German?

The band quieted politely, but then Kirihara piped up, "Are we selecting first chair players today?"

A few students muttered to themselves, sounding half amused. "Stealing first chair already?" an oboist teased.

An panicked. She didn't even know how to play the flute yet! She hadn't even looked at the fingering charts, she—

The teacher laughed and shook his head. "Not yet," he replied. "We have a number of new musicians with us today; it's only fair to give them a chance and teach them how to play the instruments, first."

Akaya scowled. "Che."

The teacher introduced himself as Katou-sensei, and asked the new students to raise their hands. There were only eight or nine in the entire sixty member class, An included. She flinched. It'd be difficult to catch up.

Kirihara looked at her, half amused, then turned back to the teacher. "Will we be playing today?"

"Aren't you an eager one?" he commented. "I'd intended for you all just to introduce yourselves . . ."

"None of us care about introductions," A Seigaku student interjected.

A Hyotei student snorted. "Yeah, 'cause most of us don't want to meet some of these people, anyway."

"You picking a fight?"

"And if I am?"

"I'll take this tuba and shove it down your throat!"

"Only Seigaku students have mouths _that _big!"

An almost laughed, but remembered that she was on Seigaku's side just in time.

"Hey, hey," Katou-sensei protested. "Calm down, everybody. We're here to make music, not make people swallow instruments. That's a very good tuba, by the way. Very expensive, too. I'd rather not have it digested, if you please." He laughed, but the arguing students continued to glower. "Alright, alright. We'll play. What's your name?" he asked, gesturing to Kirihara.

"Kirihara Akaya."

"To kick off this lesson, would you like to play something for us?"

_Ha, _An thought. _Serves you right for being so arrogant._

But Kirihara didn't look remorseful at all. He grinned a rather worrying grin and replied, "Why not? As Atobe-san would say, be awed by my prowess, everybody!" He stood up and gave an exaggerated bow, nearly hitting an oboist in the head with his bassoon.

A few Hyotei students cheered, while most of RikkaiDai snickered at Kirihara's theatrics. She briefly wondered if it was a common trait of his.

Knowing RikkaiDai, it probably was.

_Those arrogant brats, thinking they're above everybody in everything and walking like they own the—_

His feet tapped quietly. An wondered if he was counting the beats, but refused to be impressed.

Then he started playing, and An couldn't help but gape a little. _How does he . . . ?_

The sound of Kirihara playing was smooth and liquid, somehow. His eyes were glazed, but his hands moved magically quickly. It was a sad piece, harsh and trickling at the same time. An noted that this piece must've required an orchestral accompaniment, because there were often abrupt pauses between his playing—but it was still tragically beautiful.

Someone from the RikkaiDai cluster muttered, "That showoff."

_Showoff indeed, _An thought, _but . . . _

Kirihara's eyes were anything but glazed when he finished the piece. They shone with the glimmer of brilliant green stars, and they seemed to be saying, "Aren't I awesome? Don't you wish you were me?"

The band instructor seemed impressed, and though they wouldn't admit it, An guessed that the Seigaku and Fudomine students were, too.

She looked forlornly at her flute and wondered if she'd ever be able to match up to such an advanced level.

She'd have to try, wouldn't she?

(If only to wipe that smug grin from Kirihara's face.)

He took off the reed and repositioned the bassoon. "How was that?" he asked, knowing the answer.

Katou-sensei burst into a small speech about how wonderful his playing was, and how he hoped that all students in the class would strive to achieve that level of musical ability, and how Kirihara must have been both wonderfully talented and a hard worker, and was he gushing? Oh dear, he hoped he wasn't gushing, but really, that was just _so _spectacularly played and he'd never seen any student handle an instrument that well before and what in the world was he doing in the intermediate band when he should've joined advanced or symphonic?

An was wondering about that too, actually. His level was clearly much higher. Add that to his influence with Yukimura and Atobe—he could've easily been accepted into one of the higher levels. She looked at him suspiciously.

He returned her stare with a self-satisfied look and mouthed, _Not half bad, right?_

She pointedly looked away.

"Isn't he arrogant?" the girl sitting next to her whispered.

"Sure is," An muttered. "Do you know him?"

The girl shook her head. "No, Takeshi told me about him."

"Takeshi?" An repeated, bemused. "Do you mean Momoshiro-kun?"

"Yes, that bottomless-pit of a tennis player," the girl agreed.

"I see," An replied, pleased to meet somebody from Seigaku.

"Takeshi ranted about that boy—Kirihara, is it?—for nearly half an hour," she laughed.

"You two must be rather close," she mused. She'd never heard anybody call him by his first name—not even Echizen, with whom Momoshiro seemed to be attached at the hip.

The girl laughed. "Not really. We're cousins."

An let out a little "oh!" of surprise, but mentally berated herself for not seeing the similarity. They had the same dark violet eyes, black hair, and easy grin. "I hadn't realized that he had a cousin," she said with a laugh. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Tachibana An."

"I know; I've heard about you. I'm Momoshiro Nozomi," she replied. "Takeshi has a crush on you."

She pretended to look surprised, and murmured, "Really?" as casually as she could. In all honesty, she wasn't very interested in him at all—as a friend, surely yes, but not as a romantic interest. He lacked something—a spark of sorts. She just—didn't reciprocate his feelings, she supposed. There wasn't much of a why behind it, and so she tried to avoid the topic as much as possible.

Nozomi rolled her eyes. "Really. I told him he had no chance with you," she said apologetically. "But you know how stupid he can be. Denied it the whole time."

"Oh, that's not it," An began.

"Girls," Katou-sensei said firmly. "Please stop talking."

They nodded meekly and fell into silence. Kirihara shot them (mostly An) a look that seemed to sing, _Busted. _

An glared back, and Nozomi muffled a snicker.

The rest of her classes flew by, although to be honest, she wasn't really paying attention. Half her mind was focused on ignoring Kirihara and his two Hyotei friends, and half her mind was focused on figuring out the flute. She raced back to her dorm room as soon as her lunch period began.

People stared at her as she ran by, but she paid them no mind, and locked the door as soon as she got inside. The walls weren't necessarily soundproof—or, if they were, they weren't soundproof enough to drown out all sounds of the flute.

The dorm room was empty. Her roommate was out for the day, she recalled. Lucky.

She held the flute in her hands and looked at it pensively. _Why, _she wondered, _is it so hard to play a stupid B flat?_

Thanks to Kirihara (it figured that all her problems were traced back to him), the conductor decided that it'd be a good idea for the band to practice. The B flat was a basic note, the standard note, given all the B flat instruments, and it wasn't too hard to play, not really. The other flautists had done it easily. Kirihara had done it easily. Almost everybody did it easily. You just found the fingering, and, well, blew.

But An, for some reason, couldn't manage anything more than an undignified squeak.

It'd taken her nearly fifteen minutes to even manage a sound, an actual note. But even then, the note was ridiculously sharp—higher than it was supposed to be.

Nozomi had told her something about loosening the flute a bit, but the teacher had only encouraged her to practice a little more at home, and moved on.

Kirihara's not-so-well-hidden snicker really didn't help much.

Checking her watch (a present from her older brother), she noted that she had about an hour and a half left. Her lunch break would be over in half an hour, and then she had a free period.

She'd be cutting it close, but she decided it was worth it. She couldn't very well practice after her classes; she'd be disturbing the people doing their homework. And she couldn't push it off a few hours, either—because then they'd be sleeping. As far as she knew, the walls weren't soundproof, and she wasn't willing to risk an experiment to test it.

_And while we're at it, _she thought spitefully, _why are we starting off with Holst's Suite in E flat?_

She'd never played the flute until that concert band class, and she had enough trouble playing a B flat. It was overly optimistic of Katou-sensei to expect her to be able to play a full suite, just by sight reading. Given, it _was _the intermediate and advanced band, but still!

Maybe she wasn't using enough strength?

She pressed the proper keys, held them in place, took a deep breath, and blew.

The sound that came out was terribly harsh.

She frowned and played with the flute a bit. Maybe it was broken? The flute was new, though; she'd bought it a while back, but she hadn't played it even once. For the most part, it was untouched. The surface was silver and gleaming, and the keys were smooth and bright.

Nozomi didn't have the same lunch period as she did, and couldn't help her. An had made acquaintances with a few of the other flautists, but wasn't familiar enough with them to ask for help.

In a place like this—some twisted academy, good in theory, poor in reality—An really couldn't be sure who her allies were.

The uniforms of all students were identical. There was no way to tell who was from a rival school. She supposed it was a good way to find friends outside people's typical circles—good in theory—but the students would be much too paranoid about befriending an enemy to loosen up and socialize with a stranger—poor in reality.

What in the world possessed the teachers to force four rival schools in one building?

She missed the old, quaint Fudomine building. It may have been worn down, and maybe it wasn't as extravagant as this one—but it was hers. It felt like home. This felt like a elitist mansion, someplace she wasn't fit for. She really did love the beauty of this place, but it really wasn't worth the effort. She didn't see her brother or her friends nearly as often. And she'd been on the girls' tennis teams in Fudomine. There wasn't even any point in joining this new club; the Hyotei and RikkaiDai girls had swarmed onto the teams in hopes of impressing Atobe and Yukimura, respectively.

This whole rivalry, she thought, was a little stupid. What was the point? People claimed the rivalry was because of all the awful things the rival schools had done to each other—injuring Tezuka's arm, the humiliating loss Sanada suffered, the rivalry between Marui and Fuji.

Pointless.

**

* * *

**

"Five games to four. Your serve," Akaya said. Hiyoshi nodded and took a ball from one of the first years.

Marui was playing Mukahi on the next court. "Pretty great, huh?" he called.

Akaya gave an absentminded "Huh?" while returning Hiyoshi's serve with an underhand.

"Tennis season's over," Marui explained, lobbing. He grimaced a little as Mukahi jumped about ten feet into the air and did a crazy spin. "No pressure. And we don't need to practice with a messed up team of Seigaku and Fudomine, either. Hey, Gakuto—you're going to kill yourself if you keep that up."

"True," Akaya agreed, going for a smash. "Even though we _are _practicing for next year, technically."

"Fine, no _immediate _pressure," Marui amended, waving one hand dismissively and using the other hand to return a slice. "It's pretty fun. Even Sanada looks like he's in a good mood. He usually has a stick up his—_ow!_"

Akaya turned to him in surprise, as Mukahi jumped over the net and began apologizing profusely. A tennis ball had managed to hit Marui right on the forehead, and Akaya couldn't help it—he laughed. "That," he said, "is a wonderful display of your genius."

"Shut up," Marui muttered, massaging his temple. "I need ice."

"I'll get it," Mukahi offered, and raced toward the clubroom.

"Guess you're better meant for doubles," Akaya told him.

"Shut _up._" Marui got up with a wince. "I should probably go with him. Later."

"Game, set, match," Hiyoshi called. "Six games to four. Nice job, Akaya."

"You too," Akaya called back, grinning. "Rematch tomorrow?"

"Definitely."

Akaya looked around. Almost everybody else was engaged in a match, and the only people who weren't playing were the non-regulars and the first years—Akaya really didn't want to play one of them.

It was such a nice day, too. Tennis players had two free periods in between their regular schedules. It meant he had to stay at school a bit later than most people, to make up his foreign language classes (he probably shouldn't have picked so many electives)—and it also meant he got to his dorm a bit later as a result—but getting to play in the afternoon, in the bright sunshine was worth it.

('Sides, it gave him an excuse to procrastinate on his homework as much as possible.)

He wandered a little, wondering if Sanada-fukubuchou or Yukimura-buchou were available for a match. The two of them didn't generally participate in the matches or drills during the off seasons, but it wouldn't take much to convince them for a match.

Hell, he was so desperate, he would've willingly (though hesitantly) gone to a Seigaku player for a match.

"Akaya. Why aren't you practicing?"

His eyes lit up. "Buchou," he greeted. "Wanna play a match? Everyone else is playing already; I need a practice partner."

Yukimura looked amused. "Are any of the non-regulars available?" he inquired.

Akaya groaned. "Yes."

"But you don't want to play them."

"I don't," he admitted.

The captain smiled a little. "Alright. If you'd like."

Akaya cheered inwardly, but simply bowed politely and said, "Thank you very much, buchou."

Still, he wasn't startled at all when Yukimura ruffled his hair fondly. "You can, more or less, cut the formalities, Akaya. How was your day?"

He _was _startled by the question. "It was good," Akaya replied. "I guess. Concert band class was fun. I got to play a concerto."

"By yourself?"

"Solo," Akaya confirmed proudly. "No mistakes either. The Vivaldi one in E minor."

Yukimura smiled at him. "The one you were having trouble with?"

"Exactly."

He laughed that light laugh of his. Akaya always marveled when his captain laughed—there was something exquisite and otherworldly about him, regardless of whether he laughed or not, but when he _did _laugh, he looked utterly ethereal. "I'm glad, Akaya. But I do hope you didn't sleep through your other classes."

Akaya looked defensive. "None of the other classes are as interesting."

"That's true," Yukimura acknowledged. "Symphonic band today was rather entertaining. You know about the upcoming concert, I assume?"

"There's a concert already?"

"In a few months," he corrected. "I was selected to be soloist. Your band—and the other bands and orchestras—will be performing too, I believe. We may be able to rehearse together."

Akaya beamed. "When?" Faintly, he noticed that they weren't walking in the direction of the courts, but toward the clubhouse. Marui and Mukahi were just leaving, with the former carrying a pack of ice.

"I suppose rehearsal will begin in a few weeks. Our conductor tested all the flautists in our class, for the solo. But he'll have to test the rest of the musicians sometime this week before he can really decide on a piece." He smiled faintly. "This has been a good day, yes. It's ironic. Fuji was awfully upset about what happened with Sanada, as I'm sure you know."

The sophomore snickered. "Yeah."

"And because Tezuka was so busy worrying about Fuji," Yukimura said, amused, "he let his guard down."

"That hypocrite," Akaya said bluntly. "What happened?"

"I saw to it that his hair will be pink for at least a week," Yukimura replied. "Unless he dyes it back, of course. There's always that."

Akaya gaped. "Did you take a picture?"

"Not yet," he said. "Speaking of photographers. I thought this might happen."

Akaya followed his gaze. There stood Fuji, saying something quietly to Sanada near the clubroom. Sanada was stolid as usual, calmly refuting whatever it was that Fuji was saying. "Evil psychopath," Akaya muttered.

"We used to be friends, once," Yukimura commented.

". . . what?"

"Fuji and I used to be friends. We were on a first-name basis, too—in grade school." Yukimura's expression was carefully impassive. "It was before we found out about the rivalry. We'd gotten together a few times toward the beginning of our first year in middle school. But after a few weeks, we got the gist of it and stopped speaking to one another." Yukimura cast him an amused glance. "He wasn't as evil as you may think."

"But I'm only one year younger than you," he protested, surprised. "How wouldn't I know?"

"Maybe you weren't paying attention?" Yukimura suggested. "We all made friends blindly in grade school. It wasn't until middle school that we began paying attention to whom our friends were.

"But that's so . . . weird," Akaya blurted. "I mean, it's _Fuji._ I can't imagine you being friends with Fuji." But now that he thought about it, it made sense. The both of them were charismatic, charming, delicate-looking, a little sadistic. And the both of them liked to use it to their advantages. They would've made a terrifying duo.

Yukimura seemed wistful. "Renji and Inui of Seigaku used to be friends, too. Very good friends—best friends, I suppose. Marui and Fuji used to be friends as well as rivals. Tezuka, Atobe, and Sanada used to be inseparable." He sighed a little. "I wonder if they miss it." He nodded to Sanada, who said something to Fuji and walked away.

_Do they miss it? _

He veered away from the clubhouse and gestured for Akaya to follow. "Come. We have a while left; let's go play our match."

**

* * *

**

An was _fairly _certain that it wasn't supposed to be so hard to play one note.

She had the sheet music spread in front of her, and she did—very badly—want to play it. But how was she supposed to play forty-something measures if she couldn't play one note? She was already on her free period, and had about half an hour left.

It sounded awful.

She'd tried it so many times. There had to be a trick to it—she'd ask Nozomi as soon as possible. But until then—there didn't seem much she could do. She tried memorizing the fingering chart, but that was a feat in itself.

There really was something to all this music. It seemed so easy—_but those people are way more talented, _she thought wryly. _Do non-musical prodigies even stand a chance?_

Still, it sort of amused her that Kirihara was so good at music. She'd never imagined him as the type.

_Getting distracted, _she decided. _Better focus._

She tried it again.

So, she wasn't a musical prodigy. Prodigies probably had ten times the talent she did; she figured she'd make up for it by working ten times harder. There wasn't anything about An that particularly stood out, she knew. There wasn't anything too special about her—which might have been why she was known as Tachibana's little sister all the time, instead of An. Hard work got people places—but talent made them more prominent.

What did one do, then, if one lacked talent?

An had been a hard worker all her life, not really because she wanted to be famous, but because she didn't believe in seeing anything halfway through.

It'd be easier if she knew somebody with prominent musical talent who could help her. Nobody from Seigaku was really interested in music, though—nor was anybody from Fudomine.

For an instant, she wished that she were friends with somebody from a rival school. People like Oshitari Yuushi, Yukimura Seiichi, Marui Bunta, Atobe Keigo, even—they were interesting. People from Seigaku and Fudomine (while not all of them) had a tendency to wear their hearts on their sleeves, and while she loved them, she knew she'd probably never be able to communicate with them on the same level.

It was one of the reasons she chose not to reciprocate any feelings Momoshiro or Kamio had for her.

She'd only caught glimpses of their rivals' personalities, but somehow, they were a bit like—her. She thought she'd like to get to know them.

And then she remembered how badly those people treated her older brother.

Hyotei's disdain toward them, RikkaiDai's blunt abuse. She ought to have hated them for it.

She tried saying it out loud, but there wasn't any real conviction.

**

* * *

**

Yukimura had told Akaya to take a break, and so he'd dragged Marui along for a walk. Akaya noted that they were close to the dorm rooms while Marui rambled about Yukimura's wistful expression during tennis practice that day. "Was he seriously talking about Fuji?" Marui was asking, incredulous. "He hasn't brought that up since he was twelve."

"He seemed pretty upset about it," Akaya commented, idly stepping past a flower. Sure, Atobe could afford to build a freaking mansion from the fifteenth century, but he refused to weed the stupid place.

Marui shrugged. "It makes sense. He and Fuji _were _pretty close. Tezuka, Tachibana, Oishi, even—Yukimura was friends with all of them. Even then, the rivalry was barely noticeable in middle school, you know? It was nothing compared to high school." He grimaced a little. "It's gotten pretty bad. You know Fuji Yuuta? Fuji's little brother."

"Yeah?"

"He transferred to Hyotei a little while back, because that school he went to—what's it called, St. Rudolph?—didn't have a high school. It's been hell for Fuji the elder, as far as I know."

"Sucks to be him," Akaya said flatly. They walked close to the dorms, Akaya dodging flowers every two seconds. "Why are there so many stupid weeds?" Akaya demanded, losing his patience and jumping on a pink one.

Marui snickered. "It's a _garden, _Akaya. That was a chrysanthemum. Anyway, unsympathetic, aren't you?" Marui laughed. "To be honest, I don't even know why the rivalry is so much worse in high school. I guess people exaggerate it to make up for being all mild in middle school. And after a while, it just . . . builds up. I don't know—an act can turn into reality pretty fast, you know?"

"I guess," he muttered, and glanced at Marui. The junior looked a little absent-minded, and Akaya recalled that Yukimura said Marui and Fuji used to be close, too. "Were you like that? Buchou said you knew Fuji-san pretty well."

Marui grinned. "He told you, huh? Yeah, Fuji and I were pretty good friends. Actually, Gakuto, Kikumaru, Fuji, and I used to be childhood friends. I called them Eiji and Syusuke back then." He shrugged, looking deceptively casual. "I guess you grow out of it after a while," he said.

Akaya eyed Marui's fake smile with suspicion. "Yeah, maybe," he said dubiously.

"You're lucky, though. You've always made friends with people from RikkaiDai and Hyotei—I don't think you've ever spoken to a Seigaku or Fudomine student, if only to insult them." Marui ruffled his hair, almost the exact same way Yukimura had. "Lucky brat. You have nothing to worry about."

They were near the girls' dorms now, and Akaya could hear the sound of a flute—poorly played, but still a flute.

"Probably Tachibana," he muttered.

"Red Dress Girl?" Marui guessed. "Working pretty hard, isn't she?" He squinted and listened for a few seconds, then folded his arms. "Not too good, though."

"She's trying," Akaya grunted. "Guess she's not good with winds instruments."

Marui looked contemplative. "I could give her pointers, since I'm just so amazing with my trumpet and all."

"That's a brass instrument," Akaya countered. "The flute is a woodwind instrument."

Marui grinned. "Going on the defensive already?"

"Am not!"

He pushed Akaya back toward the tennis courts. "We'd better get going. Our breaks only last fifteen minutes each, remember? Try not to be love struck." He narrowed his eyes. "Are you?"

"'Course not."

"You could always get her to transfer to RikkaiDai, or Hyotei," Marui offered. "Then we wouldn't have the feud to worry about."

"I don't like her," Akaya bit out.

"That's what they all say," Marui said forlornly. "They grow up so fast, kids these days."

"I will bite you," Akaya said seriously.

Marui laughed and pushed him along.

**

* * *

**The second day of band class didn't bode to well for An, either. She had the right fingering, she knew she did.

Luckily, the conductor focused on the brass instruments instead of the woodwinds instruments that day—although it surprised her that the flute was considered a woodwind instrument in the first place—and she got away with it.

She supposed it was lucky that she had her lunch period and her free period consecutively. Still, she hadn't had a chance to speak to Nozomi during class at all—the teacher was adamant about being quiet while a section was practicing.

So it was halfway into fifth period again, and once again, she was trying to figure out the flute.

She'd been told by another student that the rooms weren't entirely soundproof, and as such, had asked for permission to use the band rooms. At least then she'd have an excuse to make noise—it'd be less suspicious than practicing the flute in her room. Katou-sensei had been ecstatic that somebody actually wanted to practice, and lent her the room without any qualms.

The flute sat in its case, bright silver against the green velvet. _How can a little thing like you, _she wondered, _be so much trouble?_

She tried that B flat again, and again, it was sharp.

"Wow, you're bad."

An didn't look up from her flute. _Please, _she thought, _go away. Go away go away go away go away—_

"You're pretty rude, too." Kirihara walked, uninvited, into the room and seated himself across from her, backwards on a chair. He looked at the flute. "Want help?"

It hadn't occurred to her to ask another musician for help—she'd assumed that somebody who played a different instrument wouldn't understand the mechanics of a flute. Or maybe they didn't—maybe Kirihara was just horribly multi-talented.

"Gimme." He fiddled with the flute a little while, An watching in bemusement. She had half a mind to tell him off, but decided against it. If he was helping her, fine. She needed it, as much as she disliked acknowledging it.

And in any case . . . it was a strange act of generosity and kindness, and An wanted to accept it.

_Forget about this stupid rivalry for a little while, _she decided. _It's not doing anybody any good, anyway._

The flute didn't look too different when Kirihara handed it back to her. The headjoint and foot joint did seem a little farther apart than they were before; had he loosened it?

"You shouldn't push the mouthpiece all the way in," he told her matter-of-factly. "It makes your note too sharp. If the note is flat, though, you can push it in more. Something to do with the air and length or whatever. The longer the instrument, the deeper it sounds. I think."

"Like the bassoon," An realized.

He snorted. "Nah, the bassoon's just special." He beamed, and An resisted a chuckle. "Try playing it now."

She forced herself to remember the fingering for a B flat, and tried it. The note did sound a little different; she didn't have perfect pitch, and so she had no idea if the sound was accurate. But the sound was definitely a little lower, she realized.

"That's a B flat," Kirihara told her. "Not bad. But your sound is too harsh. Play it again?"

He watched her as she did. An lowered the flute after a few moments of intense blowing.

Then he laughed.

An stared. "What?"

"For someone as tiny as you are," he said, chuckling at the annoyed look she sent his way, "you sure blow really, _really _hard."

"Aren't I supposed to?" she demanded.

"Tch, no. Unless you wanna blow your lungs out." He looked extremely amused, and An scowled a little. "It's like you're blowing up a balloon or something. The flute isn't a balloon, smart one. If you blow too hard, the sound's harsh and unstable. But if you don't use enough air, the sound's weak and . . . nonexistent. Just kind of breathe into the flute, or something. 'Cept a little harder."

"You're articulate," An said sarcastically.

He grinned. "You know it."

She brought the flute to her lips and tried again. The sound that came out—wasn't exactly _perfect, _but it was much more mellifluous than her previous attempts. She held it out as long as she could (which really wasn't very long). "Oh, wow," she breathed.

"Pretty good," Kirihara told her.

_That might be the first nice thing he's said to me, _she thought.

"You'll have to work on your breathing," Kirihara continued. "Take up track or something. Tennis definitely helped me with lung capacity and all."

She huffed. "I play tennis, too."

He looked genuinely surprised. "Seriously? Did you join the girls' tennis team?"

An set the flute down and began taking it apart. "No," she replied flatly. "Too many Hyotei and RikkaiDai girls on the team."

Kirihara actually looked surprised for a moment. "But—oh. Right." He quickly adopted a haughty look and commented, "Guess we beat out all you Seigaku and Fudomine chicks, didn't we?"

She knew the tranquility wouldn't last for long. "It's probably because Yukimura-san and Atobe-san blackmailed the coaches," she spat, and folded her arms. "I'd beat all of them, easy." She didn't doubt it—she could pull off a six-love game, easy. The girls' team was such a joke. She'd been debating whether or not to join, and watching the practice session, had instantly decided against it. The girls' swings were awful, they missed almost every single ball, and couldn't complete an underhand to save their lives. An voiced this to Kirihara, who laughed a little and nodded.

"Yeah, I saw," he admitted. "They kinda suck."

An was the one to look surprised. "You agree?"

He shrugged. "Tennis is tennis. Nothing to do with teams or schools. Usually," he added, proudly gesturing to his classic RikkaiDai wristband. "But usually, _usually, _it's about the tennis players. Not their schools." He paused. "'Cept us. RikkaiDai is just inherently awesome. Which only proves how especially awesome _I _am, considering I'm one of the best—"

"Yeah, yeah," An cut off. Kirihara looked mildly put out at being interrupted, in a mockingly fake hurt sort of way, and An grinned a little. His humor was infectious, as much as she hated to admit it.

They sat there in silence for a while, half comfortable, half awkward. His company was actually . . . enjoyable. An was hesitant to ask him to leave—_it would be rude to, _she thought stubbornly. _I'm not rude. _But she didn't know what to say, either, and only sat there, gazing uneasily at her flute. Finally, Kirihara got to his feet and muttered something about tennis practice.

"Okay," she replied reluctantly. "I'll see you around, I guess."

"Are you staying here?" he asked.

She glanced back at the flute. "I think I'll work on that B flat a little more," she said dryly.

He nodded and made for the exit.

"Wait! Thanks for—you know."

He gave her a casual wave of acknowledgement without turning around.

An blinked, and he was gone.


	8. What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks?

Hey, hey! Guess what? I actually planned out a plot for this thing! (Kinda!)

'm happy. :)

**

* * *

**

"Six months isn't going to work," Ryuzaki said firmly. "The teachers can't put up with them for that long. It's getting to be unmanageable."

"Then are you proposing to shorten it?" Sakaki inquired. "Atobe insisted on a two-term school year, it's September right now—when do you want to end it?"

"We may as well end it at winter vacation," she decided. "Three months, roughly. That'll do. If anything, they'll have gotten to know each other—to an extent. They'll have the option of meeting with each other over winter vacation, in any case."

Sakaki chuckled sardonically. "The students will be ecstatic."

"So will the staff," Ryuzaki said dryly.

**

* * *

**

As always, she was at least five minutes early to class. She'd been given a great schedule, for one thing, and she'd never been one to dally in the halls; punctuality was one of her strong points. Although, being the only one in the band room for five minutes, taking deep breaths because she'd practically fled down the stairs—it did make her wish she hadn't made _quite _so much effort to be on time.

By the time the conductor arrived to class, a few of the other students had already trickled in.

"Early again," Katou-sensei commented, and An smiled at him. "You're quite a diligent student, aren't you?"

It pleased An to know that she'd made a good impression on her teachers, and, encouraged by this good start to the class, she pulled out her flute. Kirihara had been right—his advice, anyway. She pushed the mouthpiece three-quarters of the way in, and blew gently. At least she had the B flat down—that was something to be proud of, she supposed.

"How did practice go?" the conductor asked.

"It went well," An said politely. "Thank you for letting me use the band room."

And, of course, it was still far from perfect. The position felt strange, and she was sure she'd drop the flute at any second. But when she was too focused on keeping a steady grip on the flute, she was too afraid to move her fingers to actually _play _the flute, for fear of dropping it. There had to be some sort of trick to this.

"Hey, An," Nozomi greeted, and sat down next to her. "How'd practice go?"

"Tell me—how do you hold the flute?"

Nozomi seemed surprised. "Uh, parallel to the face?"

"I always feel like I'm going to drop it," An confessed, and held up the flute to demonstrate. "See? It's like I can't even reach the keys—"

"You're not supporting the flute enough. Balance your flute with your right thumb and left index knuckle," Kirihara told her offhandedly, appearing from nowhere. He settled in his seat and focused on putting together his bassoon, not looking up at her. "Your shoulders are too tense, your right elbow juts out too much, and you should relax your lips more when you play." He turned to her, held her gaze for less than a second with absinthe green eyes, and went back to his instrument.

An stared at him for a moment longer, and Nozomi added helpfully, "Yeah, what he said."

x

"They're having an art show by the tennis courts," Fuji commented. "Will you be attending, An-chan?"

The cafeteria, as all cafeterias were, was rowdy. It was blatantly noticeable that the Seigaku and Fudomine students were all gathered in one place, and the Hyotei and RikkaiDai students in another. From the corner of her eye, she could spot a few Hyotei and RikkaiDai regulars talking, and casting suspicious glances at her older brother. She glared at them and looked pointedly away, fiddling with the tray of food she'd gotten earlier.

"Maybe," An replied. "I don't want to risk running into any Rikkai or Hyotei students, though. I might just go practice in the band room, instead."

"Oh, right; I hear you've decided to take up the flute!" Kamio remarked.

"A beautiful instrument for a beautiful girl," Fuji added amiably, and took a sip of his green tea. Kamio glared jealously at him, and Tachibana Kippei chuckled to himself. "You're wonderfully talented, aren't you?"

An blushed and said, "Not really; it's not a very easy instrument to play. I've had lots of help."

Kippei leaned forward in interest. "Like who?"

"Well, this girl in my music class," she replied haltingly, "Momoshiro Nozomi. Momoshiro-kun's cousin." She definitely couldn't bring up Kirihara—not around them. Even if he'd helped her more than Nozomi had; she and Nozomi were friends—she and Kirihara weren't. That settled that.

"Oh?" Kippei smiled. "I'd like to meet her, or thank her." His smile turned a bit more teasing as he added, "After all, it's no easy job to take care of my little sister."

"Nii-chan!" An protested, and he laughed.

"It's a pity I don't know many musicians," Fuji murmured. "I'm afraid you'll have to pull this one off on your own, An-chan. Maybe there's somebody outside of the regulars who can play an instrument."

An shook her head ardently, taking a sip of her soda. "No, that's okay, Fuji-senpai." It was understandable—the regulars were in a class of their own. They were practically a clique, after all; and it was also understandable that tennis players—star tennis players—wouldn't take much of an interest in music. Maybe it was a stereotype (because, to An's annoyance, most of the RikkaiDai and Hyotei students _did _have an interest in music), but it prevailed as truth in Fudomine and most of Seigaku. Those who were interested in the arts didn't pursue it much; Fuji and his photography was one of the few.

"Tennis players don't need music," Kamio said flatly, and folded his arms. "It's fine for a girl as sophisticated as you, An-chan, but—"

"That's so sexist," An interrupted, annoyed. "Or stereotypical. The RikkaiDai regulars play music. Kirihara's in my band class, Marui-senpai plays the trumpet, and Yukimura-senpai plays the flute—don't they?"

That silenced Kamio for a few moments, and then he said, "Sorry; I didn't mean it like that. But you shouldn't compare Fudomine and Seigaku to _them._" He spat out the last word the way someone might say "sewer." "They're about as far from sophisticated as you can get, if you ask me."

"Kamio," Kippei said warningly.

"But it's true," Kamio argued. "You saw what Atobe-san did to Tezuka-san's wrist! And what Kirihara did to your knee! And Yukimura's tennis style strips people of their senses. How can you look up to people like them?"

"I don't!" An protested. "I never said I looked up to them."

"Even the teachers are regretting this; did you hear? They're cutting the merging from six months to three."

"Really?" She'd never heard anything about that. "I guess that's a smart decision."

"We got this far because of our hard work," Kamio said stubbornly. "Hyotei and RikkaiDai got this far because of their dirty tricks."

_That's not true, _An wanted to protest, but kept silent. She reached for her fruit salad, but didn't have the heart to eat any.

Fuji pointed out, "That's not being fair to them, Kamio-kun. I'm sure they've had their own hardships." But his lips were set in a straight line, and his eyes hidden, refusing to betray any emotions. An wondered if he'd ever been friends with anyone from RikkaiDai or Hyotei, before the rivalry happened.

Before he knew about the rivalry, maybe?

"That doesn't give them the right to pick fights with _us_," Kamio retorted. "If they're not going to play fair, they can go play their instruments and whatever, and drop out of the tennis club."

That struck a nerve. "If that's what you think, then you're no better than them," An snapped. She wanted to say more—but she couldn't defend them. It'd draw curiosity and suspicion—and why did she want to defend them, anyway? They'd never done anything for her.

To the contrary.

"Kamio, An, that's enough. What's with this sudden interest in RikkaiDai, anyway?" Kippei asked curiously. "Are any of them bothering you?"

Of course, that'd be first conclusion her brother jumped to.

It was only fair, An supposed. Why would they have any reason to be kind to the Fudomine captain's little sister?

Why did that realization frustrate her?

"No," she said. Her voice was taut. "They're not bothering me."

"It's generous of you to be sympathetic to them, An-chan," Fuji commented. "But shouldn't you keep in mind what Kirihara did to your brother? What Atobe did to Tezuka, or their attitudes—can you forgive them for that?"

"No," she answered honestly. "Probably not."

"So?" Fuji prompted.

She looked at her tray of food, and realized she'd lost her appetite. "I'm not feeling too well; I think I'll go back to my dorm room early." She got up and bowed a little. "See you tomorrow, nii-chan, Fuji-senpai, Kamio-kun."

It wasn't their fault, she knew. But she walked out of the cafeteria with long, hurried strides, eager to get away from the tension.

**

* * *

**

It'd been something of a marvel when Akaya had finally conquered his Devil Mode, during the U-17 camp. It was a great, liberating feeling, but sometimes, Akaya wished he could still instill the same level of fear in his opponents. It was silly, and he never seriously, legitimately wanted it, but sometimes, just sometimes—

"C'mon, Seaweed-chan! Serve!" Marui called.

Like now.

"I'm serving, I'm serving," Akaya muttered, and went for a Knuckle Serve. "There, how's that?"

Marui yelped and jumped away. "Hey! I just got hit by a ball, like, yesterday!" he protested. "Are you trying to put me in the infirmary?"

"I'm sure the nurse would love your company," Niou taunted from the referee's chair, fiddling with a tennis racquet. "Fifteen-love."

Marui winced. "Don't remind me. She was all over me, last time I went there." He turned to Akaya, who was winding up for another serve. "So if you put me in the infirmary, I'll be taking you with me!" The Knuckle Serve wasn't too difficult to return, really—not once you'd gotten used to it. And with nearly four years of experience, it wasn't much of a challenge to Marui. He aimed the ball at Akaya's head, knowing he'd be able to return it. "Let's see how you like being slobbered over!"

"No thanks," Akaya replied, dodging and returning the shot easily.

"Thirty-love! Marui's losing!" Niou added, almost as an afterthought.

Marui made a face. "Thanks, Niou. Really."

"Just exercising my vocal chords," Niou said with a grin. "Gotta practice for that concert coming up."

Marui's scowl deepened. "I still can't believe _you _made the chorus tryouts."

Akaya took that opportunity to serve an ace. "Niou-senpai is going to be in the chorus?"

"Forty-love—yeah, of course. As soon as I heard Marui _didn't_ make the chorus . . ." He trailed off, and the corners of his lips swung upwards in a smirk. "Who could resist?"

"That wasn't fair," Marui complained. "I wasn't paying attention. The ref's being unfair."

"Tattletale." Niou flipped his racquet with one hand and flipped Marui off with the other. "Marui's not concentrating on his match."

Akaya served again.

"One game to love."

Marui whipped around, and his scowl threatened to tear a line down his face. "My serve. Niou, shut up. I am officially going hardcore."

_This is too easy. _Akaya exchanged a smug grin with Niou. This was one of the better aspects of the school-merging program—with so many students, the captains and coaches were a bit more lax about the situation. Otherwise, he noted wryly, Marui-senpai and Niou-senpai would've gotten backhanded ages ago.

It wasn't really worth it, though. He'd rather have watched Marui and Niou get backhanded (not that _that _was a bad thing in the first place). The classes, the teachers, the schedule, the _building_—everything was too Western. Of course, being Atobe, the school would be accommodated with the best equipment possible, but what was wrong with Japanese equipment? Akaya had never had to take a psychology course before this day, never had to study music in school, and never had to psychoanalyze Shakespearean literature. Stupid Westerners and their stupid electives. And having to run between classes! What nonsense was that? Not that it was really an issue for him, being a tennis player and all, but missed being allowed to laze around between classes, waiting for the teacher to show up. Teachers didn't get enough work to do, anyway.

Still, the way he saw it, the merging wasn't going to last long. Just three or so months, it seemed—just another one of the teachers' whims. He really did wonder what the point of this was; three months wasn't going to do anything. If anything, the students had only gotten more hostile.

_Teachers can't even follow through with their own stupid plans, _Akaya thought, as he returned Marui's serve. _So what the hell do they expect us to do?_

"Love-fifteen."

"There's this rumor," Marui said, serving again, "that Atobe is going to hand out plane tickets at the end of the merging program. To wherever you want to go! I think—I heard you had the choice between Hawaii, New York, Bahamas, Paris, and . . . some other places."

"Pfft, even Atobe's not that rich." Akaya returned it. "There are four schools here."

Marui's return hit the pole, then landed barely a centimeter from the net. "Tightrope walking," he said, beaming. "And it's a rumor. How should I know if it's true or not?"

"Fifteen-all. Atobe's the heir to a company, not the heir to Europe."

"Atobe paid for this whole stupid building," Marui argued, serving again. "Why can't he pay for a few plane tickets?"

Return ace. "Because it's not a _few _plane tickets—it's like, four thousand."

"Fifteen-thirty. Exactly; learn to count. How the hell did you make it to second-year?"

"Shut up! It's a nice idea, anyway." Serve.

Return. "It's a nice idea, sure. Lots of things are nice ideas. Gingerbread houses, a mansion made of chocolate, dying your hair blue . . ."

"That last one can be done, actually," Niou commented.

"Hey!" Cord ball.

"Thirty-all. It can; I really do wonder what you'd look like with blue hair."

"As hideous as you, I bet."

"My hair's not blue—it's _silver_-blue."

"Marui-senpai, can you hurry up and serve?" But neither Niou nor Marui would stop bantering, and Akaya threatened, "If you don't serve, I'm going to ditch the match and go to that art show by the tennis courts." That got a halfhearted serve from the volley specialist, which Akaya returned easily. "Thirty-forty," Akaya called. Another halfhearted serve, another return ace. "Two games to love." He served four times in rapid succession, Marui not really making an effort to return them, to his annoyance. "Three games to love. I seriously will go to that art show if you don't serve."

Whose brilliant idea was it to have Niou-senpai, of all people, judge this match?

He glanced at the art show, seriously considering going. Leave it to Atobe to put together an elaborate art show right in the middle of the courtyard. At least the weather was nice. Kind of.

There were a few other people present—not that many, though, considering it was the middle of the day, and several people were still in class. A flash of blue caught his eye, and he squinted a little. Was that Yukimura-buchou?

It was—he was standing by a bunch of paintings, the ones with fuzzy lines and pastel colors. What were those called, again?

Impressionist paintings, right. Yukimura liked those—especially the ones by some artist with a funny sounding name . . . Renoir, was it? _Buchou sure has European tastes, _he thought. Classical music by Brahms, Impressionist paintings by Renoir—maybe Yukimura had more appreciation for this merging program than he did; Akaya wouldn't have doubted it.

Wait—was that Tachibana?

Did she just bump into Yukimura?

Were they actually talking? Akaya stared, not sure whether he ought to be appalled or . . . something else. It was just—courtesy. Right?

"Yo!" Marui called. A fuzzy tennis ball whizzing past Akaya's face caught his attention. "Pay attention."

"You're telling me to pay attention?" Akaya demanded in disbelief. "What the hell have _you _been doing for the past ten minutes?"

"Fifteen-love!" Niou called. "You better catch up, Marui, you're down three-love."

"I'll take three games back, easy," Marui replied confidently, and served again. "Nobody's a match for my genius—" Akaya returned it, about a centimeter from Marui's face.

Niou snorted. "Fifteen-all."

**

* * *

**

She was still upset by the argument; it'd been a stupid argument, but—!

An wondered if those paintings were real.

It'd certainly be like Atobe, to display a collection of Baroque, Classical, Romantic, and Impressionist paintings in the courtyard. Some of them were by famous artists (apparently), others by obscure ones. Nothing too extravagant, at least—An half expected him to build a miniature show room right on the courtyard. The paintings were displayed on simple wooden stands.

She only recognized a few of them, and supposed they were imitations—who knew how much a genuine Degas painting would cost? Still, they were nice to look at (and really, very accurate imitations).

Although, it did seem a little random. Why have an art show in the middle of the school? As far as she knew, it wasn't some special event—or, at least, nothing worth hosting an art show over.

Or maybe Atobe was just _so _excited about the merging program being shortened to three months. She wouldn't have put it past him.

She raised a hand to one of the paintings, but didn't touch. She loved going to art shows, concerts—tennis games. Because she'd been brought up with tennis—and it broke her heart that joining the girls' tennis team was not an option. But if the merging was to be cut down to three months, then she'd be able to return to the girls' tennis team in Fudomine.

An wandered a little, reading the descriptions of the paintings as she passed.

As much as she hated to admit it, though, she was a bit reluctant to return to Fudomine. This was something new. She'd miss band class, even though she'd barely started it—she'd miss her electives, she'd miss Nozomi, even though they could probably meet up outside of school anyway—

She walked straight into somebody, and it knocked the breath out of her. "Oh," she gasped, stumbling back, "I'm sorry."

"That's alright," a smooth voice replied, "I hadn't been watching where I was going." The boy's smile was placid but vacant, and he stepped back a little. "Are you enjoying the art show?"

"Yes, very," An replied. "Do you know if these paintings are real?"

"Most likely," the boy commented. "It's unlike Atobe to put imitations on display. He was boasting about the art show during practice yesterday morning."

This boy was in the tennis club, then? An murmured a noncommittal "oh" and fell silent.

"Is your name Tachibana An, by any chance?"

"Yes," she acknowledge, surprised by the question. He did look familiar, with gently curling blue hair and pale eyes. She must have known him from somewhere—it was on the tip of her tongue. Someone on the tennis team— "Do I know you?"

An shifted uncomfortably as he watched her, and she thought she saw something flicker when finally he said, "No, you probably don't. I would've liked to get to know you." He smiled politely and moved out of her way. "Excuse me."


	9. Tis But Thy Name That Is My Enemy

Haha, look at me, writing a Halloween-chapter in March. I'm so cool. Just kidding.

No, but seriously. This actually takes place on Halloween. Weird, man.

"Wherefore art thou Romeo?" actually means "Why are you Romeo?" as opposed to the common misconception that it means "Where are you, Romeo?" Just a note.

* * *

An liked love songs.

Nobody except her brother (who'd caught her on more than one occasion) knew she had at least ten love songs on her playlist. Songs in English, Japanese, Korean, even French—and even though she couldn't understand half of those languages, she made the effort to search up the translations online. Tomboyish An was a romantic at heart, and even though she found stories like _Romeo and Juliet _silly—she couldn't say she wasn't jealous.

Nonetheless, she did her best to keep her preference toward love songs a secret, lest she be mistaken for some lovestruck little girl. Only too many girls listened to love songs five hours a day—An stubbornly told herself that she liked the love songs for the melody and the lyrics—not just because they were love songs.

So now she stayed in her dorm room, lying on the bed, listening to what seemed to be a mix of guitar, clarinet, and maybe some piano—and a woman singing softly over the melody. It tugged at her heartstrings the first time she heard it—on a television drama she couldn't be bothered to remember.

Maybe it was because the past few days had been unbelievably rainy, or maybe it was because it was too chilly to go outside today—but she always did enjoy listening to love songs on a rainy day.

There was no school today, because, as Atobe had chosen to organize a Western-styled school, it was the weekend. Westerners didn't have to attend school on weekends, she learned; although she wouldn't have minded going to classes. She didn't usually get the chance to attend music classes and electives, in Fudomine—or most Japanese schools. In a way, she was almost sorry that the program would be ending in barely over two months; she'd miss the beautiful facilities, the programs, the music . . .

"Daydreaming?" her roommate asked. Ishiyama Kiko, a petite girl with a mouse-like face, from Seigaku—An thanked her lucky stars she hadn't gotten put together with someone from Hyotei or RikkaiDai. "What're you listening to?"

Hyotei and RikkaiDai. She really had to wonder—

"A recording of my Shakespearean teacher's lecture," she lied. "She spoke in English for most of the class; I need to practice."

—how could a school determine one's character?

Ishiyama laughed. "You're such a dedicated student, Tachibana. The courses are really something, huh?"

Such refined people . . .

"What classes are you taking?" she asked.

. . . and people from her school hated them.

"Architecture, technical drawing, and I joined the girls tennis team."

She should have hated them, too.

An cringed. "Are you the only Seigaku member on the team?"

But something about them—there was a spark. That spark—that spark, which nearly nobody from Seigaku nor Fudomine had.

"One of three," she acknowledged. "It's actually not too awkward, especially if you just . . . ignore everybody else. Really, what were the teachers thinking, with this merging thing?"

An didn't reply. She thought of Akaya, Akaya with absinthe green eyes. She thought of the handsome boy with gently curling blue hair; "_I would've liked to get to know you,_" he said. An art connoisseur? Atobe, Hyotei, RikkaiDai, with their charismatic, charming, refined individuals.

"I wish you'd join the team," Ishiyama continued. "The Rikkai girls are really something, but most of the Hyotei girls don't even take the game seriously. I mean, it's not like we have a team of regulars or anything—this merging thing's only for a month or two, right? You may as well join, just for the tennis. And there are some interesting people there."

An looked at her, considering. Then she grinned widely and said, "Too much tennis, not enough hours in the day."

Ishiyama smiled a knowing smile. "Suit yourself, Tachibana."

Interesting people, indeed.

An buried her face in her pillow. "Romeo, Romeo," she mumbled. "Wherefore art thou Romeo?"

The love song ended, and she pressed 'replay.'

**

* * *

**

"It's too cold to be playing tennis today," Marui muttered. "I feel numb."

"It's October," Akaya pointed out. "It's supposed to be cold. It's always really cold on Halloween." And that never ceased to annoy him—as a child, he always had to wear a coat over his Halloween costume, and that just—ruined everything.

"Then we shouldn't be playing tennis. _Outside._ Everyone else is cuddled up inside his dorm room, hugging a blanket, dressed in sweats, eating popcorn, and watching Pirates of the Caribbean!"

Akaya made a face. "We don't all like Pirates of the Caribbean."

"You're just odd," Marui informed him. "Fine, we could be hugging a blanket, dressed in sweats, eating popcorn, and watching Terminator 2."

"Better," Akaya agreed, satisfied.

Marui rolled his eyes. "The point being that it's too cold to play tennis."

"Can't take a little cold?" Niou taunted.

"You can't either!" Marui argued. "You're wearing a scarf over your tennis clothes! That's against the dress code, by the way."

Niou shrugged. "Works for me."

The two of them fell to bickering again, while Akaya exchanged an exasperated look with Yagyuu and reached for his tennis racquet. Admittedly, it was a little chilly—a lot chilly. Twenty-something degrees Celsius, barely any sun . . .

"You look distracted," Yukimura commented. "Would you like to play a match?"

Akaya perked up. "With you?"

"A friendly rally," Yukimura amended. "There are only a few minutes left in practice. Don't stress yourself out too much; you have the day off."

"A friendly rally, fine," Akaya agreed, without much complaint. Yukimura could never really be counted upon to give a "friendly rally"—rallies always turned into full-blown matches. Akaya never minded; he liked the matches. Playing tennis was much more fun than spending a day cooped up in his dorm room. It was so much more fun, so much more exciting—even if he was halfway to pneumonia.

Yukimura served. "Fudomine has some interesting people," he noted.

Akaya returned it, his mind instantly flashing back to Tachibana An. "Like who?" he asked.

Yukimura's lips twitched slightly, the way they did whenever he was trying to hide a smile. "I'm sure you know who I'm talking about." He volleyed.

His face flushed, but Akaya kept his eyes on the tennis ball. "I don't know anyone from Fudomine," he muttered. "It's pretty chilly out today."

"Is that a complaint? You know we can't stay in shape for future tennis tournaments if we lock ourselves in our dorm rooms." He sounded disdainful, and Akaya wondered if he was talking about some of the more easygoing schools—Seigaku, for one, had chosen to do something like a movie marathon.

_I wouldn't mind watching Terminator 2, _he thought, and smashed.

"Sharp movements," Yukimura said approvingly. "Good to see that the cold hasn't slowed your speed."

Akaya preened, and readied himself for the next serve. "I heard Seigaku was having a movie marathon?"

Yukimura looked thoughtful. "Do you like movie marathons?"

He shook his head immediately. "They're for chicks."

Yukimura laughed. "I see, I see. You like movies though, don't you? We could have a team event, too—such that it wouldn't interfere with practice, naturally. But Atobe has been quite generous in donating this entire building; we should make use of it."

It took a bit of self control for Akaya to stop from outright grinning with glee. "Movies are cool," he agreed.

"Terminator?" Yukimura guessed.

"Not always," Akaya replied defensively. "As long as it's not Pirates of the Caribbean, or something."

"Yes, Marui rather likes that movie," Yukimura mused. "Maybe we'll watch everybody's favorites. It won't be so awful, being 'chicks' for one night." He somehow managed to put quotations around "chicks" while serving, and gave an amused smile.

"What's yours? Favorite, I mean."

"The Pianist," he said, "but it's a bit depressing to watch for a movie marathon."

"A _bit _depressing," Akaya muttered. He opened his mouth, about to say that it'd made him cry for hours, but withdrew the comment hastily and returned the serve.

Yukimura's smile grew. "A bit," he acknowledged. "Very nice music, though."

Akaya groaned. "That reminds me—I have to talk to the music director about that quartet thing."

"For the concert?"

"It's definitely going to me," he said smugly, "but I need to establish that, first."

"Do you know what you'll be playing?"

Akaya ran for the well-placed smash a second too late, and almost tripped. "Not yet," he said. "Probably something cheesy. These concert songs usually are."

"Don't focus too much on music," Yukimura warned. "It's a fine extracurricular, but just because tennis season is over doesn't mean you have the right to be lax with your training."

"I know, I know," Akaya assured, looking mildly offended that Yukimura had questioned him.

"I don't doubt you," Yukimura added, almost as an afterthought. "But it's good to make sure of these things." He sighed. "The off-season can do awful things," he commented darkly.

Akaya recalled that it was during the off-season that Yukimura had fallen ill, and winced at the memory. "Yeah," he agreed fervently. "The off-season sucks."

Yukimura threw him the ball. "Serve."

"Anyway," Akaya said, tossing the ball into the air, "I think Niou-senpai wants to watch One Missed Call." He served.

"Not the English version, I hope," Yukimura commented. In one smooth motion, he glided over to the ball and returned it. "Between you, Marui, and me, we have quite a few English selections."

He shook his head. "Nah, the English version sucks. Way less scary."

Yukimura smiled wryly. "Scary movies do have their uses," he agreed, sounding amused. "Girls cling to you."

"They cling to me anyway," Akaya joked.

"Are Rikkai girls not to your taste?"

"Wha?"

"You've never dated one," Yukimura elucidated. "Or are you already interested in somebody?"

"Why, buchou, are you asking me out?" Akaya beamed, and aimed for a smash.

Yukimura laughed. "Not quite."

"I'm heartbroken."

Yukimura returned the smash easily. "I'm sure there's someone out there, somewhere," he said smoothly, still chuckling.

"Better my heart broken by you than by the cruel, cold world," Akaya replied, racing for the return.

Yukimura stopped laughing. "Yes, I suppose," he agreed. "But if you love someone enough . . ." He said something that Akaya didn't catch.

"Huh?" he replied distractedly. Was the ball going out? No, Yukimura's shots never went out. But it looked so close to the line . . .

It wasn't out. Akaya barely made it; the rim of his racket tapped the ball, and with one wild movement of his arm, he lobbed it over the net. Yukimura didn't move. "It's out," he said. "But very good, Akaya. Substantial improvement."

Akaya's grin widened. "My speed's gotten better," he said superfluously.

"It has, it has." Yukimura glanced away distractedly. Akaya followed his gaze, and noticed it led to the girls' dorms.

"Say, buchou, are _you _interested in someone?"

Yukimura turned back around and gave Akaya a steady look, then softened and said, "Not in the manner you'd think, I'm afraid. But there is someone interesting—and thus she interests me."

"Hyotei?"

"No," he replied casually. "Serve."

**

* * *

**

A pile of sheet music sat before her, and though she knew it was far beyond her level, she thought it worth trying.

Tones came out in jagged breaths, and she stared at the flute unblinkingly.

It stared back. Not really.

"You know," she told it seriously, "this would be a lot easier if we could cooperate." She laughed. "If I have any more conversations with you, I might have to give you a name."

She tried another note, but tilted the flute at an odd angle and no sound came out. The flute glinted in the thin light of the room, and An glared back. "Fine. We'll talk." She let out a long, exaggerated sigh, put the flute on a chair, folded her hands, and gave the flute her best therapist-smile. "Do _you _think I should join the tennis team?"

No reply.

"Ishiyama thinks I should," she continued. "I don't think there'd be a point, though—it's not competitive enough for me to really commit to it. There's no team of regulars or anything."

She paused. "You know what would really be creepy? If some magical spirit possessed you and you started talking back. Then again, it _is _Halloween.

"I kind of wonder what everyone else is doing on Halloween. This is great campus and all, but just… there's nothing to do here except study. I think the most fun I've had here was at that party, and that party was pretty bad, anyway—getting flung into a crowd of people by Kirihara." She rolled her eyes.

"And somehow he's in, what, all of my classes? Lucky me," she muttered.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, some little voice told her that yes, she is lucky, and isn't she somewhat excited by this prospect, the prospect of—

Was her flute talking to her?

She hurriedly packed up and went back to her dorm room.

x

An woke up in the middle of the night.

A sad, throbbing love song rang in her ears, and she realized she'd fallen asleep with her headphones on.

Everything was quiet-loud. She'd always had a penchant for music.

Something about it—about this—about everything—there was too much to think about, too much to love, too much to hate, and too much for her to care. Her mind was half-asleep, throwing itself headfirst into slumber. And she cared, she wanted to care so, so badly—

Words came in pieces, her thoughts came in pieces, and everything was broken. A heap of broken sentences, tumbling out like children on a twisty slide. Uneven breaths, a seesaw of tones—in seven years, she wondered, will this rivalry still burn so brightly?

She dreamed a life, and just like that—just like that—

The song ended.

Love and life and everything that came with it. She wondered if this was a quarter-life crisis.

And she was a teenage girl, just a teenage girl—who wanted to be in love with somebody, and wanted somebody to be in love with her, wishing for easier days and everything a teenage girl could want. When, she wondered, was there such a dichotomy between—everything?

She dreamed a life, and just like that—

She thought of Seigaku and Fudomine, of Hyotei and RikkaiDai. That dichotomy, a stupid, stupid dichotomy—!

_Don't they see? _she thought sleepily. _The sun and moon—they're all from the same sky._

And nights, the moon and stars—they are such ambiguous things. Moonlight and moonshine—two different things, one and the same. Is that what RikkaiDai is? Moonshine? She glanced out the window, and thought she could make out a smile behind the soft, faint clouds. "Good night," she whispered, and returned to dreaming.


End file.
